Retief Unbound (30 page)

"I see you're one
of those affectionate drunks," Retief said as Gloot flung an arm about his
shoulders. "Better take it easy, Gloot. You may need all your faculties
intact for the evening ahead."

"Take it easy? I
only had one li'l ol' swallow. And what's scheduled for the evening? Fun?
Gaiety? Wine, song, and crossword puzzles?"

"More of a
cross-track puzzle," Retief corrected. "Look." He pointed to a
three-toed footprint deeply impressed in the sand.

Gloot studied the
impressions. "Ha! I've got it!" he caroled. "Terries—just like
my old buddy Shlush!"

"I doubt it,"
Retief said. "Aside from the fact that they're eighteen inches long—"

"So they're big
Terries!" Gloot held a large, flat hand over his head. "This
high!" He glanced up at the hand and seemed to sober abruptly. "This
high?"

"That's a little
high for a Terry, especially the kind you have in mind," Retief said. He
followed the tracks, which led up across the wet sand to the edge of the
forest.

"Let's go find the
big Terries and have a li'l party," Gloot proposed cheerfully. "All
palsies together."

"I understood you
didn't care for Terries, Gloot."

"That was
then," Gloot cried gaily. "This is now. Terries are my pals, the
Groaci are my pals—everybody's my pals, even this little fellow," he added
as a small free-flying pineal gland fluttered about his head.
"Kootchie-koo—ain't it cute, Retief?" he added as it landed on his
head.

"A most appealing
organ," Retief agreed. "But I think you'd better lower your
voice."

"What for?
Somebody snoozing?" Gloot stood, weaving slightly. "Tell the little
guys with the hammers to go away," he mumbled, groping at his scalp; there
was a sudden flutter as the visitor departed hurriedly. Gloot sat down hard on
the sand.

"Tell 'em to turn
off the sireens and the bright lights," he moaned, "and take the
stewed gym shoes out of my mouth . . ."

"Congratulations,
Gloot," Retief said. "I think you broke the galactic speed record for
hangovers."

"Wha? Oh, it's
you, Retief. Lucky you happened along. I just been set upon by a strong-arm mob
and worked over with lead pipes. Which way'd they go?" Gloot staggered to
his feet.

"You were too much
for them," Retief reassured his companion. "They fled in various
directions."

"Yah, the
yellowbellies," Gloot muttered. "Oh, my skull."

"Where on the
island does this big shot hang out?" Retief asked.

"Beats me. I was
to of been met on the beach."

"Let's take a look
around," Retief suggested, studying the looming woods above them.
"You check that way"—he pointed to the south—"and I'll have a
look up here."

Gloot grunted assent
and moved off. Retief followed the curve of the shore for a distance of a
hundred yards before the beach narrowed and was pinched out by a rocky ridge
extending down from the forest-clad slope above. There were no tracks, no empty
beer bottles, no signs of animate life. He returned to the starting point.
Gloot was nowhere in sight. He followed the Lumbagan's bootprints as they wove
unsteadily across the sand, then turned toward the nearest tongue of forest.
Directly under a stout branch extending from the mass of foliage, the trail
ended. Above, barely visible among the obscuring leaves, was the freshly cut
end of a coarsely woven rope.

Retief studied the
ground. Other footprints were visible here, but Gloot's were not among them.
The marks leading away from the spot, he noted, were deeply impressed in the
sand, as if the owners had been burdened by a heavy weight—presumably that of
the Lumbagan.

Retief started off
along the clearly marked spoor leading up into the deep woods. The darkness
here was almost total. Creatures of the night creaked, chirred, and wailed in
the treetops. An intermittent wind made groaning sounds among the boughs. Nearer
at hand, something creaked faintly. Retief halted, faded back against the
knobby-barked bole of a giant tree.

A minute passed in
silence. Just ahead, a small figure emerged cautiously from the underbrush: a
curiously truncated Lumbagan, advancing in a stealthy crouch. Gripping a stout
club in a cluster of fists, the native advanced cautiously, peering under
bushes and behind trees as he came. Retief silently circled the sheltering
trunk, stepped out behind the stranger and cleared his throat. With a thin
yell, the native sprang straight into the air and struck the ground running,
but with a quick grab Retief snared him by the garland of teeth encircling his
neck.

"I'm looking for a
friend of mine," Retief said in the native tongue. "I don't suppose
you've seen him."

"Him monster like
you?" the terrified captive squeaked, hooking a finger under his necklace
to ease the strain.

"Another type of
monster entirely," Retief said; he gave a succinct description of his
traveling companion.

"Negative, Sahib.
Tribe belong me not nab monster fitting that description. By the way, how about
letting go ceremonial collar before I suffer embarrassment of bite own head
off."

"You'd be more
comfortable if you'd stop tugging," Retief pointed out.

"Against instinct
not try get away from monster," the native explained.

"Curious; a moment
ago I had the distinct impression you were trying to get closer to me."

"Iron maiden on
other foot now. You eat now, or save for snack?"

"I'll wait,
thanks. Is your village near here?"

"Usually don't
stop to chat with stranger," the captive muttered, "but in this case
looks like best bet to increase longevity. Monster right, I citizen of modest
town half mile up trail."

"I'd like to pay
it a visit. How about acting as guide?" "I got choice in
matter?"

"Certainly,"
Retief said. "You can either lead me there or take the consequences."

"Most likely lead
monster there
and
take consequences. Chief Boobooboo not like stranger
poking around."

"In that case you
can introduce me. Retief's the name. What's yours?"

"Zoof; but
probably change to Mud, once chief get eyeful of humiliating circumstances
attending surprise visit."

"Actually, Zoof,
it's not absolutely necessary that I lead you there by the neck, if you'll
promise not to run out on me."

"Got funny feeling
monster run faster than me anyway. OK, it's deal. I lead you to village; when
you get there, you look over menu, maybe pick choicer specimen."

"It's a
promise." Retief said. "Nice teeth," he added as he disengaged
his hand from the necklace. "Local product?"

"Nope, fancy
imported, guaranteed solid plastic." Zoof started through the dense woods,
Retief close behind. "No catchum real tooth these days. Life in woods
going to hell in handcart. Monsters ruin hunting, lucky make deal with
Five-eyes monster for steady supply grits and gravy."

"The Five-eyes you
refer to wouldn't by any chance be Groaci?"

"Could be.
Shiny-leg city slicker, same big like me, all time whisper, like offer deal on
hot canoe."

"That's Ambassador
Jith to the life. But I wasn't aware his interests extended this far back into
the brush."

"Sure, small
monster go everywhere, do everything. All time ride giant bird, make stink,
noise, pile up stone, while big monster trample underbrush, rig net, hunt,
eat—"

"What do these big
monsters look like?" Retief inquired. "Take look in mirror sometime,
see for self." "They're Terrans—like me?"

Zoof twisted his head
to study Retief. "Nope, not exact same, maybe. Not so much eyes. Some got
more. Some two time so big like you, tear head off, eat one bite—"

"Have you seen the
monsters yourself?"

"You bet; see you,
see Five-eyes, hear plenty rumor fill in gaps in information."

"Are there any
Groaci at your village now?"

"We find
out," Zoof said. "Home town just ahead." He led the way another
fifty feet and halted.

"Well, what
monster think of place?"

Retief studied the
gloomy forest around him, insofar as he could see in no way different from the
previous half mile of woods.

"It's unspoiled,
I'll say that for it," he commented. "Is this Main Street?"

"Monster kidding?
Is snazzy residential section, plenty tight zoning, you bet. Come on, we find
chief and boys over at favorite hangout, Old Log."

"A bar?"

"Nope, just swell
place root for grubs."

"I take it the
Grubs aren't a ball team?"

"More of hors
d'oeuvres," Zoof corrected. He led the way through a dense stand of forest
patriarchs, emerged in a small, open glade where half a dozen Lumbagans,
differing wildly in detail, wandered apparently aimlessly, gazing at the
ground. With a sharp cry, one pounced, came up with a wriggling creature which
he thrust into a sack at his waist.

"My grasp of
Lumbagan zoology is somewhat hazy," Retief said. "How do these grubs
fit into the general biological picture?"

"Play essential
role," Zoof replied. "Grub grow up be kidney, jawbone, kneecap, you
name it."

"So much for
future generations. Still, it's no worse than eating eggs, I suppose."

"Not eat
'em," Zoof corrected. "Collect, sell to skinny-leg monster, get
plenty Colonel Sanders fried chicken and other exotic chow, you bet."

The grub hunters had
interrupted their search to stare inhospitably at Retief.

"Hey, Chief,"
Zoof greeted his leader, "this monster name Retief, express desire meet
jungle big shot. Retief, shake grasping member of Chief Boobooboo, son of Chief
Booboo, son of Chief Boob."

"Grandpa name Boo,
not Boob," the chief corrected sternly. "Why you want me, monster?
Zoof not look tender?"

"Actually I was
looking for a friend—"

"Hmm, neat switch.
Usual custom eat enemy, but after all, why be prejudice? Eat chum too, get
varied diet." Boobooboo looked appraisingly at Zoof.

"As it happens,
I've already eaten," Retief said. "The friend I'm looking for seems
to have been involved in an incident involving a rope."

'"Monster bark up
wrong flagpole," the chief stated. "Unsophisticated aborigine unequal
to technical challenge of make rope."

"Any idea who
might have snared him?"

"Sure."

"Possibly you'd
confide in me." "Why?"

"I don't suppose the
simple desire to do a good turn would be sufficient motivation?" "Not
that unsophisticated," Boobooboo said flatly. "Good time remember
ancient folk wisdom embodied in old tribal saying: What's in It for Me?"

"What about a firm
promise of a year's supply of pizza pies?"

"Not much
nourishment in promise," the chief pointed out. "Got better idea. . .
." Boobooboo lowered his voice. "Know where big supply eatables
located; you help collect, maybe I get bighearted and tell all."

"I think I'd
prefer a more definite commitment," Retief said. "Strike out the
'maybe' and we might be able to get together."

"Sure; just stuck
'maybe' in so have something to concede."

"I see I'm dealing
with a pro," Retief acknowledged. "En passant, where is this food
supply located?"

"Half mile that
direction." The chief pointed. "Enough chow for whole tribe from now
to next St. Swithin's Day."

"I take it you've
actually seen the groceries for yourself?" "Sure, same time
deliver."

"I see: you plan
to hijack the supplies you've been selling to the Groaci."

"Hijack loaded
word. Just say decide to share wealth with underprivileged. Monsters got
wealth, we got underprivileged'

"At the present
rate, Chief, I predict your supply of unsophistication won't last out the
winter. But why do you need my help? You have enough troops to stage a raid on
your own."

"Monster not get
big picture. Skinny-legs spoilsport hide comestibles away inside magic cave,
patrol perimeter with plenty fearsome monster, tear a simple tribesman apart
with two hands while hunt fleas with rest."

"And you think I
can penetrate this fortress?"

"Maybe not; but
better you than me and boys; we just simple pastoral types; hunt, fish, steal,
not go in for heavy work."

"On the whole,
Chief Boobooboo, the proposition doesn't sound overwhelmingly attractive."

"I figure maybe
you feel that way; so save snapper for end: you come here ask about missing
buddy? Monster in luck; get economical combination deal. Kidnapped pal same
place victuals. Get two for price of one."

"I think,"
Retief said, "I've been outmaneuvered."

A quarter of an hour
later, Retief and Chief Boobooboo, attended by Zoof and the bulk of the
truncated tribesmen, stood in the shelter of a giant mumble tree, the soft mutterings
of its foliage covering the sound of their conversation.