Planet of Adventure Omnibus (82 page)

“Yah, yah,
yah!” screamed the urchin. “Why worry? He couldn’t heave a rock this far!”

“Go ahead,
sir, give it to him,” suggested the operator. “Which will it be? The mud-balls?
The dung-packets make a hideous reek; the brat despises them. And the
thorn-balls! He’ll rue the day he attacked you.”

“You get up
there,” said Reith. “Let me throw at you.”

“Prices
double, sir.”

Reith
departed the brat-house with the taunts of both urchin and operator
accompanying him to the reach of earshot.

“Wise
restraint,” said Cauch. “No sequins, to be earned in such a place.”

“One can’t
live by bread alone ... but no matter. Show me the eel races.”

“Only a few
steps further.”

They walked
toward the sagging old wall which separated the bazaar from Urmank Old Town. At
the very edge of the open area, almost in the shadow of the wall, they came to
a U-shaped counter surrounded by two-score men and women, many wearing outland
garments. A few feet beyond the open end of the U a wooden reservoir stood on a
concrete platform. The reservoir, six feet in diameter and two feet high, was
equipped with a hinged cover and emptied into a covered flume which ran between
the arms of the U, to empty into a glass basin at the far bend. The attention
of the players was riveted upon the glass basin; as Reith watched a green eel
darted forth from the chute and into the basin, followed after a moment or two
by eels of various other colors.

“Green wins
again!” cried out the eel-master in a voice of anguish. “Lucky lucky green!
Hands behind the screen, please, until I pay the winners! I am sorely hit!
Twenty sequins for this Jadarak gentleman, who risked a mere two sequins. Ten
sequins for this green-hatted lady of the Azote Coast, who chanced a sequin on
the color of her hat! ... What? No more? Is this all? I have not been struck so
sorely as first I feared.” The operator cleared the boards of sequins laid down
upon the other colors. “A new race will now occur; arrange your bets. Sequins
must be placed squarely upon the chosen color, if you please, to avoid
misunderstanding. I set no limit; bet as high as you please, up to a limit of a
thousand sequins, since my total wealth and reserve is only ten thousand. Five
times already I have been bankrupted; always I have climbed back from poverty
to serve the gambling folk of Urmank; is this not true dedication?”‘ As he
spoke, he gathered the eels into a basket and carried them to the upper end of
the chute. He hauled on a rope which, passing over a frame, lifted the lid of
the reservoir. Reith edged close and peered down into the pool of water
contained within. The eel-master made no objection. “Look your fill, my man;
the only mysteries here are the eels themselves. If I could read their secrets
I would be a rich man today!” Within the reservoir Reith saw a baffle which
defined a spiral channel originating at a center well and twisting out to the
chute, with a gate to the center well which the eel-master now snapped shut. In
the center well he placed the eels and closed down the lid. “You have
witnessed,” he called out. “The eels move at random, as free as though they
traveled the depths of their native streams. They whirl, they race, they seek a
ray of light; when I raise the gate all will dash forth. Which will win the
race to the basin? Ah, who knows? The last winner was Green; will Green win
again? Place your bets, all bets down! Aha! A grandee here wagers generously
upon Gray and Mauve, ten sequins on each! What’s this? A purple sequin upon
Purple! Behold all! A noblewoman of the Bashai backlands wagers a hundred value
on Purple! Will she win a thousand? Only the eels know.”

“I know too,”
Cauch muttered to Reith. “She will not win. Purple eel will loiter along the
way. I predict a win for White or Pale Blue.”

“Why do you
say that?”

“No one has
bet on Pale Blue. Only three sequins are down on White.”

“True, but
how do the eels know?”

“Herein, as
the eel-master avers, lies the mystery.”

Reith asked
Zap 210: “Can you understand how the operator controls the eels to his profit?”

“I don’t
understand anything.”

“We’ll have
to give this matter some thought,” said Reith. “Let’s watch another race. In
the interests of research I’ll put a sequin down upon Pale Blue.”

“Are all bets
made?” called out the eel-master. “Please be meticulous! Sequins overlapping
two colors are reckoned to fall on the losing color. No more bets? Very well
then, please keep hands behind the screen. No more bets, please! The race is
about to begin!”

Stepping to
the reservoir, he pulled a lever which presumably lifted the gate in front of
the spiral baffle. “The race is in progress! Eels vie for light; they cavort
and wheel in their joy! Down the chute they come! Which is to win?”

The gamblers
craned their necks to watch; into the basin streaked the White eel. “Ah,”
groaned the operator. “How can I profit with such uncooperative eels? Twenty
sequins to this already wealthy Gray; you are a mariner, sir? And ten to this
noble young slave-taker from Cape Braise. I pay, I pay; where is my profit?” He
came past, flipping Reith’s sequin into his tray. “So then, everyone alert for
the next race.”

Reith turned
to Cauch with a shake of his head. “Perplexing, perplexing indeed. We had
better go on.”

They wandered
the bazaar until Carina 4269 went down the sky. They watched a wheel of
fortune; they studied a game where the participants bought a bag of irregular
colored tablets and sought to fit them together into a checkerboard; a
half-dozen other games, more or less ordinary. Sunset arrived; the three went
to a small restaurant near the Inn of the Lucky Mariner, where they dined upon
fish in red sauce, pilgrim-pod bread, a salad of sea-greens and a great black
flask of wine. “In only one phase of existence,” said Cauch, “can the Thang be
trusted: their cuisine, to which they are loyal. The reason for this
particularity escapes me.”

“It goes to
demonstrate,” said Reith, “that you can’t judge a man by the table he sets.”

Cauch asked
shrewdly, “How then can a man judge his fellows? For example, what is the basis
of your calculation?”

“Only one
thing I know for certain,” said Reith. “First thoughts are always wrong.”

Cauch,
sitting back, inspected Reith under quizzical eyebrows. “True, quite possibly
true. For instance, you probably are not the cool desperado you appear on first
meeting.”

“I have been
judged even more harshly,” said Reith. “One of my friends declares that I seem
like a man from another world.”

“Odd that you
should say that,” remarked Cauch. “A strange rumor has recently reached
Zsafathra, to the effect that all men originated on a far planet, much as the
Redeemers of Yao aver, and not from a union of the sacred xyxyl bird and the
sea-demon Rhadamth. Furthermore, it was told that certain folk from this far
planet now wander Old Tschai, performing the most remarkable deeds: defying the
Dirdir, defeating the Chasch, persuading the Wankh. A new feeling is abroad
across Tschai: the sense that change is on its way. What do you think of all
this?”

“I suppose
the rumor is not inherently absurd,” said Reith.

Zap 210 said
in a subdued voice: “A planet of men: it would be more strange and wild than
Tschai!”

“That of
course is problematical,” remarked Cauch in a voice of didactic analysis, “and
no doubt irrelevant to our present case. The secrets of personality are
mystifying. For instance, consider the three of us. One honest Zsafathran and
two brooding vagabonds driven like leaves before the winds of fate. What
prompts such desperate journeys? What is to be gained? I myself in all my
lifetime have not gone so far as Cape Braise; yet I feel none the worse, a
trifle dull perhaps. I look at you and ponder. The girl is frightened; the man
is harsh; goals beyond her understanding propel him; he takes her where she
fears to go. Still, would she go back if she could?” Cauch looked into Zap 210’s
face; she turned away.

Reith managed
a painful grin. “Without money we won’t go anywhere.”

“Bah,” said
Cauch bluffly, “if money is all you lack, I have the remedy. Once a week, each
Ivensday, combat trials are arranged. In point of fact, Otwile the champion
sits yonder.” He nodded toward a totally bald man almost seven feet tall,
massive in the shoulders and thighs, narrow at the hips. He sat alone sipping
wine, staring morosely out upon the quay. “Otwile is a great fighter,” said
Cauch. “He once grappled a Green Chasch buck and held his own; at least he
escaped with his life.”

“What are the
prizes?” Reith inquired.

“The man who
remains five minutes within the circle wins a hundred sequins; he is paid a
further twenty sequins for each broken bone. Otwile sometimes provides a
hundred-worth within the minute.”

“And what if
the challenger throws Otwile away?”

Cauch pursed
his lips. “No prize is posted; the feat is considered impossible. Why do you
ask? Do you plan to make the trial?”

“Not I,” said
Reith. “I need three hundred sequins. Assume that I remained five minutes in
the ring to gain a hundred sequins ... I would then need ten broken bones to
earn a further two hundred.”

Cauch seemed
disappointed. “You have an alternative scheme?”

“My mind
reverts to the eel-race. How can the operator control eleven eels from a
distance of ten feet while they swim down a covered chute? It seems
extraordinary.”

“It does
indeed,” declared Cauch. “For years folk of Zsafathra have put down their
sequins on the presumption that such control is impossible.”

“Might the
eels alter color to suit the circumstances? Impractical, unthinkable. Does the
operator stimulate the eels telepathically? I consider this unlikely.”

“I have no
better theories,” said Cauch.

Reith
reviewed the eel-master’s procedure. “He raises the lid of the reservoir; the
interior is open and visible; the water is no more than a foot deep. The eels
are placed into the center well and the lid is closed down: this before betting
is curtailed. Yet the eel-master appears to control the motion of the eels.”

Cauch gave a
sardonic chuckle. “Do you still think you can profit from the eel-races?”

“I would like
to examine the premises a second time.” Reith rose to his feet.

“Now? The
races are over for the day.”

“Still, let
us examine the ground; it is only five minutes’ walk.”

“As you wish.”

The area
surrounding the eel-race layout was deserted and lit dimly by the glow of
distant bazaar lamps. After the animation of the daytime hours, the table,
reservoir and chute seemed peculiarly silent.

Reith
indicated the wall which limited the compound. “What lies to the other side?”

“The Old Town
and, beyond, the mausoleums, where the Thangs take their dead-not a place to
visit by night.”

Reith
examined the chute and reservoir, the lid to which was locked down for the
night. He turned to Cauch. “What time do the races begin?”

“At noon,
precisely.”

“Tomorrow
morning I’d like to look around some more.”

“Indeed,”
mused Cauch. He looked at Reith sidewise. “You have a theory?”

“A suspicion.
If-” He looked around as Zap 210 grasped his arm. She pointed. “Over there.”

Across the
compound walked two figures in black cloaks and wide black hats.

“Gzhindra,”
said Zap 210.

Cauch said
nervously, “Let us return to the inn. It is not wise to walk the dark places of
Urmank.”

At the inn
Cauch retired to his chamber. Reith took Zap 210 to her cubicle. She was
reluctant to enter. “What’s the matter?” asked Reith.

“I am afraid.”

“Of what?”

“The Gzhindra
are following us.”

“That’s not
necessarily true. Those might have been any two Gzhindra.”

“But perhaps
they weren’t.”

“In any event
they can’t get at you in the room.”

The girl was
still dubious.

“I’m right
next door,” said Reith. “If anyone bothers you, scream.”

“What if
someone kills you first?”

“I can’t
think that far ahead,” said Reith. “If I’m dead in the morning, don’t pay the
score.”

She wanted
further reassurance. Reith patted the soft black curls. “Good night.”

He closed the
door and waited until the bolt shot home. Then he went into his own cubicle
and, despite Cauch’s reassurances, made a careful examination of floor, walls
and ceiling. At last, feeling secure, he turned the light down to a glimmer and
lay himself upon the couch.

THE NIGHT
PASSED without alarm or disturbance. In the morning Reith and Zap 210
breakfasted alone at the cafe on the quay. The sky was cloudless; the smoky
sunlight left crisp black shadows behind the tall houses and glinted on the
water of the harbor. Zap 210 seemed less pessimistic than usual, and watched
the porters, the hawkers, the seamen and outlanders with interest. “What do you
think of the
ghian
now?” asked Reith.