Planet of Adventure Omnibus (68 page)

“I refuse to
accept your verdict,” said Reith, “unless you can enforce it. I hold you to
account.”

The
Immaculate regarded Reith with scorn and revulsion. “You challenge me, an
Immaculate?”

“It seems to
be the only way I can prove my innocence.”

The
Immaculate looked at the Dirdir Excellent. “Am I so obligated?”

“You are so
obligated.”

The
Immaculate measured Reith. “I will kill you with my hands and teeth as befits a
Dirdirman.”

“As you
please. First, remove this chain from my neck.”

“Remove the
chain,” said the Dirdir Excellent.

The
Immaculate said fretfully, “Vulgarity! I lose dignity performing before a
gaggle of sub-men.”

“Do not
complain,” said the Excellent. “It is I, Captain of the Hunt, who loses a
trophy. Continue; enforce your arbitration.”

The chain was
removed. Reith stretched, relaxed, stretched, relaxed, hoping to restore tone
to his muscles. He had hung all night by his wrists, his body felt heavy with
fatigue. The Dirdirman stepped forward. Reith became a trifle light-headed.

“What are the
rules of combat?” asked Reith. “I do not wish to commit any fouls upon you.”

“There are no
fouls,” said the Immaculate. “We use hunt rules: you are the game!” He uttered
a wild screech and launched himself upon Reith, in what seemed an ineffectual
sprawl, until Reith touched the creature’s white body and found it all tense
muscle and gristle. Reith fended aside the rush, but was ripped by artificial
talons. He attempted an armlock, but could not secure a leverage. He struck the
Immaculate a blow under the ear, tried to hack the larynx and missed. The
Immaculate stood back in annoyance. The spectators gasped in excitement. The
Immaculate again launched himself upon Reith, who caught the long forearm and
sent the Dirdirman staggering. Woudiver could not contain himself; he rushed
out and struck Reith a buffet across the side of his head. Traz yelled in
protest and whipped his chain across Woudiver’s face. Woudiver screamed in
agony and sat squashily upon the ground. Anacho wrapped his chain around
Woudiver’s neck and yanked it tight. The Elite Dirdirman leaped forward,
snatched away the chain. Woudiver lay gasping, his face the color of mud.

The Immaculate
had taken advantage of Woudiver’s attack to seize Reith and bear him to the
ground. The wire-tense arms clasped Reith’s body; sharp long teeth tore at his
neck. Reith freed his arms. With all his force he clapped his cupped hands upon
the white ears. The Immaculate emitted a strangled squeal and rolled his head
in agony. Momentarily he went limp. Reith straddled the thin body, as if he
rode a white eel. He began to work at the bald head. He tore away the false
effulgences, teased the head this way and that, then gave a great twist. The
Immaculate’s head hung askew; his body thrashed and floundered, then lay still.

Reith rose to
his feet. He stood shaking and panting. “I am vindicated,” he said.

“The charges
of the fat sub-man are invalid,” intoned the Excellent. “He may therefore be
held to account.”

Reith turned
away. “Halt!” said the Excellent, its voice taking on a throaty vibrato. “Are
there further charges?”

A Dirdir of
the Elite caste, effulgences rigid and sparkling with crystal coruscations, spoke:
“Does the beast still call dr’ssa?”

Reith swung
around, half-intoxicated by fatigue and the aftermath of struggle. “I am a man,
you are the beast.”

“Do you
demand arbitration?” the Excellent asked. “If not, let us be away.”

Reith’s heart
sank. “What are the new charges?”

The Elite
stepped forward. “I charge that you and your henchmen trespassed upon the
Dirdir Hunting Preserve and there treacherously slaughtered members of the
Thisz Sept.”

“I deny the
charge,” said Reith in a hoarse voice.

The Elite turned
to the Excellent. “I request that you arbitrate. I request that you give me
this beast and his henchmen and mark him exclusive quarry of the Thisz.”

“I accept the
onus of arbitration,” fluted the Excellent. To Reith, in a tone nasal and
coarse: “You trespassed in the Carabas, this is true.”

“I entered
the Carabas. No one ordered me not to do so.”

“The
proscription is general knowledge. You furtively assaulted several Dirdir; this
is true.”

“I assaulted
no one who did not attack me first. If the Dirdir wish to act like wild beasts
then they must suffer the consequences.”

From the
crowd came a murmur of wonder and what seemed muted approval. The Excellent
turned to glance around the plaza. Instantly the sound was muted.

“It is Dirdir
tradition to hunt. It is sub-man tradition and his essential character to serve
as quarry.”

“I am no
sub-man,” said Reith. “I am a man and quarry to no one. If a wild beast attacks
me I will kill it.”

The
bone-white face of the Excellent showed no quiver of feeling. But the effulgences
began to glow, and to become rigid. “The verdict must adhere to tradition,” the
creature intoned. “I find against the sub-man. This farrago is now at an end.
You must be taken to the Glass Cage.”

“I challenge
the arbitration!” cried Reith. Stepping forward, he buffeted the Excellent on
the side of the head. The skin was cold and somewhat flexible, like
tortoiseshell; Reith’s hand stung from the blow. The Excellent’s effulgences
stood like hot wires; it vented a thin whistle. The crowd stood in unbelieving
silence.

The Excellent
reached its great arms to the front in a clutching, ripping gesture. It vented
a gurgling scream and poised to leap.

“A moment,”
said Reith, stepping back. “What are the rules of combat?”

“There are no
rules. I kill as I choose.”

“And if I
kill you, I am vindicated, and my friends as well?”

“That is the
case.”

“Let us fight
with swords.”

“We will
fight as we stand.”

“Very well,”
said Reith.

The fight was
no contest. The Excellent came forward, swift and massive as a tiger. Reith
took two quick steps back; the Excellent launched itself. Reith seized the
horny wrist, planted a foot in the torso; falling backwards he threw the
creature in a sprawling somersault. It landed on its neck, to lie in a daze.
Instantly Reith was upon it, locking the taloned arms. The Excellent writhed
and thrashed; Reith banged its head against the pavement until the bone cracked
and whitish-green ichor began to exude. He panted: “What of the arbitration?
Was it right or wrong?”

The Excellent
keened-a weird wailing sound, expressing no emotion known to human experience.
Reith banged down the harsh white head again and again. “What of the
arbitration?” He slammed the head against the pavement. The Dirdir made a great
effort to dislodge Reith and failed. “You are the victor. My arbitration is
refuted.”

“And I, with
my friends, are now held guiltless? We may pursue our activities without
persecution?”

“This is the
case.”

Reith called
to Anacho, “Can I trust it?”

Anacho said, “Yes,
it is tradition. If you want a trophy, pluck out his effulgences.”

“I want no
trophy.” Reith rose to his feet and stood swaying.

The crowd
regarded him with awe. Erlius turned on his heel and strode hastily away. Aila
Woudiver backed slowly toward his black car.

Reith pointed
a finger: “Woudiver-your charges were false and you now must answer to me.”

Woudiver
snatched out his power-gun: Traz leaped forward, hung on the vast wrist. The
gun discharged, scorching Woudiver’s leg. He bawled in agony and fell to the
ground. Anacho took the gun; Reith tied one of the chains around Woudiver’s
neck and gave it a harsh tug. “Come, Woudiver.” He led the way to the black
car, through the hastily retreating onlookers.

Woudiver
hulked himself within and lay groaning in a heap. Anacho started the vehicle
and they departed the oval plaza.

THEY DROVE TO
the shed. The technicians, in the absence of Deine Zarre, had not reported for
work. The shed felt dead and abandoned; the space-boat, which had seemed on the
verge of coming alive, lay desolate on its chocks.

The three
marshaled Woudiver within, as they might lead a cantankerous bull, and tied him
between two posts, Woudiver making a continual moaning complaint.

Reith watched
him a moment. Woudiver was not yet expendable. Certainly he was still
dangerous. For all his display and expostulation, he watched Reith with a
clever and hard gaze.

“Woudiver,”
said Reith, “you have worked great harm upon me and my friends.”

Woudiver’s
great body became racked with sobbing; he seemed a monstrous and ugly baby. “You
plan to torment me, and kill me.”

“The thought
has presented itself,” Reith admitted. “But I have more urgent desires. To
finish the ship and return to Earth with news of this hellish planet I would
even forgo the pleasure of your death.”

“In that
case,” said Woudiver, suddenly businesslike, “all is as before. Pay over the
money, and we will proceed.”

Reith’s jaw
hung in disbelief. He laughed in admiration for Woudiver’s wonderful
insouciance.

Anacho and
Traz were less amused. Anacho poked the great belly with a stick. “What of last
night?” he demanded in a suave voice. “Do you recall your conduct? What of the
electric probes, and the wicked harness?”

“What of
Deine Zarre, the two children?” spoke Traz.

Woudiver
looked appealingly toward Reith. “Whose words carry weight?”

Reith chose
his words carefully. “All of us have cause for resentment. You would be a fool
to expect ease and conviviality.”

“Indeed, he
shall suffer,” said Traz through gritted teeth.

“You shall
live,” said Reith, “but only to serve our interests. I don’t care a bice for
your life unless you make yourself useful.”

Again in
Woudiver’s eyes Reith discerned a cold and crafty glint. “So it shall be,” said
Woudiver.

“I want you
to hire a competent replacement for Deine Zarre, at once.”

“Expensive,
expensive,” said Woudiver. “We were lucky in Zarre.”

“The
responsibility for his absence is yours,” said Reith.

“No one goes
through life without making mistakes,” Woudiver admitted. “This was one of
mine. But I know just the man. He will come high, I warn you.”

“Money is no
object,” said Reith. “We want the best. Secondly, I want you to summon the
technicians back to work. All by telephone, of course.”

“No
difficulties whatever,” declared Woudiver heartily. “The work will proceed with
dispatch.”

“You must
arrange immediate delivery of the materials and supplies yet needed. And you
must pay all costs and salaries incurred henceforth.”

“What?”
roared Woudiver.

“Further,”
said Reith, “you will remain tied between those posts. For your sustenance you
must pay a thousand-or better, two thousand sequins each day.”

“What!”
cried
Woudiver. “Do you think to cheat and bewilder poor Woudiver?”

“Do you agree
to the conditions?” Reith asked. “If not I will ask Anacho and Traz to kill
you, and both of them bear you grudges.”

Woudiver drew
himself to his full height. “I agree,” he said in a stately voice. “And now,
since it seems that I must sponsor your hallucinations and suffer the
backbreaking expense in the bargain, let us instantly get to work. The moment I
see you vanish into space will be a happy one, I assure you! Now then, release
these chains so that I may go to the telephone.”

“Stay where
you are,” said Reith. “We will bring the telephone to you. And now, where is
your money!”

“You can’t be
serious,” Woudiver exclaimed.

IN THE
WAREHOUSE at the edge of the Sivishe salt flats, Aila Woudiver sat perched on a
stool. A chain connected the iron collar around his neck to a high cable; he
could walk from his table to the closet against the wall where he slept, the
chain sliding behind him.

Aila Woudiver
was a prisoner on his own premises, insult added to injury, which by all
accounts should have provoked him to spasms of tooth-chattering fury. But he
sat placidly on the stool, great buttocks sagging to either side like
saddlebags, wearing an absurd smile of saintly forbearance.

Beside the
spaceship which occupied the greater part of the warehouse Adam Reith stood
watching. Woudiver’s abnegation was more unsettling than rage. Reith hoped that
whatever schemes Woudiver was hatching would not mature too quickly. The
spaceship was nearly operative; in a week, more or less, Reith hoped to depart
old Tschai.