The Space Guardian (5 page)

She waited until he had drunk and reestablished contact.

“Deal Offer: First-part terms contingent on completion of Deal. One-half value of take, paid in gems, GC notes, or kind. Referee valuation acceptable.”

Suspicion flared suddenly in Stoat’s eyes. The terms were far too generous. Lahks did not care. Let him watch, spy, suspect. Since she had no intentions of cheating him, his suspicions could only end in confirming his confidence in her. She was only interested now in making Contract and working out the details of the hunt.

“Deal Question,” Stoat snapped. “What payment can be in kind when merchandise is one heartstone?”

“Deal Answer: We could seek two heartstones. Other contingent merchandise noted on this planet.”

“Deal Question: State other contingent merchandise.”

“Deal Answer: The skins of which windsuits are made. The clear, vitreous substance used for face plates and lights. A live drom, if they can live off-planet.”

“Deal Statement: Contingent merchandise accepted.” Once again Stoat broke contact and closed his hand. “It is accepted, Trader’s daughter, but you do not know what you are saying.” Even as he shook his head, however, his eyes brightened and his lips twitched. “If we could get off-planet with such a load. . . By the Power that Is, your father’s misfortunes might be canceled.” He burst into laughter. “Maybe those spooks at Necrocivita do know what they’re talking about. But you better have contact with Trade and with the Guild—and perhaps with the Power that Is, too.”

Over her own closed fist, Lahks said, “You will have to brief me on the difficulties of getting out, but let us try to make Contract first.” She opened her hand. Stoat’s came to meet it immediately. She asked at once, “Deal Question: First-part terms acceptable?”

“Deal Statement: First-part terms, contingent on completion of Deal. One-half value of take paid in gems, GC credits, or kind, including contingent merchandise, referee valuation acceptable. First-part terms accepted.”

The brief handclasp that signaled acceptance physically was repeated and Lahks began again immediately.

“Deal Offer: Second-part terms. No contingency beyond effort in Deal. Off-planet transport if desired only.”

“Deal Question: Regarding second-part terms. Payment for time? Who bears hunt expenses?”

Lahks frowned. “Deal Statement: No payment for time. Individual costs of hunt to be borne by each individual.”

“Deal Offer: Second-part terms rejected.”

Stoat’s voice was sharp, even tinged with a little anger, but relief showed in his eyes. Lahks pursed her lips as if she was considering a new offer. This haggling was childish, but it was necessary to act in character with her part as a Trader. The Deal was so chancy and the take—if they made it—would be so high that it was good Trading to offer a high cut, but to insist on the others paying their own expenses and working free. If they failed to make a take, the whole Deal would cost her nothing but her own living expenses. She laughed aloud, slipped her hand from under Stoat’s, and closed it.

“So I did not catch you. Are you sure there is no Trade in your blood?”

“The only thing I am sure is not in my ancestry is a methane-breathing ice wriggler,” Stoat replied. But almost before the words were out his hand was flat, raised invitingly just enough for Lahks to slip her palm under.

Now it was Lahks who hesitated. She could not let him push her too far. If they got the heartstone, there would be no problem. Either it would help her find Ghrey, in which case the Guardians would pay Stoat’s claims, or it would not help her, in which case they could sell it and she could pay off that way. At present her funds, although substantial, were limited. Slowly she slid her hand forward.

“Deal Question: Make counter-offer.”

“Deal Offer: No contingency beyond effort in Deal. Standard day payment, five GC per man. Tamar Shomra pays all costs of hunt. Transport off-planet paid by mutual consent at termination of Deal.”

“Deal Offer: Rejected,” Lahks snapped. She closed her hand. “If I wanted those terms, I could have brought my own crew.”

“And they would have been about as much help on Wumeera as a Skingol amphibian. I know this planet. I have been out there.” His head jerked toward the western desert. “I even know how to get your contingent merchandise. I am offering you experienced men—and don’t worry, Shom pulls his weight and more on the cheap.”

Lahks shook her head. “Maybe so, but the only way I could test that would be to offer someone else a Deal. And you must realize my resources, especially while on this planet, are limited.” She reached toward the “off” button on the datarec. Stoat grabbed her hand.

“I’m in a hole, too,” he confessed. “1 would like to come to Contract, but I can’t afford to be dumped off-planet, and possibly be left at a transfer point, flat broke. How about if you pay expenses and a flat fee?”

“Expenses might run pretty high on Wumeera,” Lahks protested. “I don’t even have a windsuit.”

Stoat sucked air through his teeth, let his eyes run over Lahks, and smiled suddenly. “Usually they do because the bearer buys all new equipment, but they won’t run high this time. Shom and I have complete hunting gear.” Quite suddenly, the smile still on his lips, his eyes went hot and angry. “They never take that. They want you to go out again and again and again. I swore I wouldn’t, not if I starved first, but you have Trade connections. By the Power, how I would like to do them!” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I suppose I shouldn’t have said that, but it doesn’t matter. I have sixty-two GC and that.” He dropped a handful of local coin on the table. “Even if I wanted to, I could not share expenses. Offer me a Contract, any Contract I can take, and I will take it.”

Once Contract was made, Stoat relaxed as far as his quivering alertness was capable. He sent Shom for more drinks, grinned his sharp-toothed grin, and shook his head.

“Trader’s daughter, I had to take you for a fee. Years ago people got away with heartstones, but that was years ago. The Landlords are organized now. You find the stuff; they find you and take it away.”

“It is a big planet,” Lahks replied calmly. “The first thing to do is to get lost on it.”

A startled glance in Stoat’s dark eyes melted almost immediately into comprehension. Since it was obvious that hunters were watched by various methods, it was best to have a logical reason for leaving town unconnected with heartstones or other merchandise. Circumstances were in their favor, Lahks pointed out as soon as she discovered that Stoat and Shom had come in from the desert rather than on a ship. This would fit very well with the story she had told Vurn—which was true, except that Ab had not disappeared from Wumeera. All Lahks needed to do was “recognize” Shom as her brother.

“His mental condition would make it imperative to a fond sister to get him off-planet and into psych care as soon as possible,” Lahks said cheerfully, drinking large gulps of the sour green wine in the mug. She pursed her lips. “Can I get a windsuit early tomorrow, Stoat?”

“Probably. You are small.” His eyes assessed her chest development. “A boy’s castoff will probably fit.”

“Good. That first. Then how do I get to see the Landlord?”

“Walk up to the manor and ask. They might turn me away. You, he’ll see.” Stoat grinned wolfishly, then said, “I wouldn’t. Wumeera’s a hard planet and women are . . . valuable property. You would get in, but you might not get out.”

“The Cargomaster said the locals might steal my luggage, and they did not even look at it. Is this more of the same?”

“Evil-minded suspicion? Perhaps. I have never known of a case firsthand,” Stoat chuckled. “Well, it is not likely that anyone would try to abduct me for my feminine charms. I have heard rumors—that’s all. I had better go with you.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Lahks said sharply. “Even if they let you in, would the Landlord remain unguarded in your presence or let you carry arms in? If he wanted to keep me, you would present no difficulties. I have been in Trade all my life. Do you think this is the first Deal I have worked alone? I can take care of myself.”

The next day Stoat, Shom, and Lahks went shopping. Stoat had told Shom to stay behind, and Lahks reinforced the command mentally, but the big man’s face mirrored such misery and his mind wailed its loss so pathetically that the decision was immediately reversed.

“It’s better to take him, anyway,” Lahks rationalized. “A fond sister would not leave her defenseless brother alone. If I pet him in public, word will get back to the Landlord. Every bit of evidence helps.”

Stoat led them slowly down along the alley between the featureless domes. He chose one that, although smaller than Fanny’s hotel, seemed to Lahks indistinguishable from all the others. When the door opened to his shout, however, it was into the shop of a dealer in local products. Lahks framed an ingenuously admiring question as to how, if he had not been in the town for long and had his own equipment, he knew exactly the place he wanted.

“Speaker tube,” he replied absently, not sensing her suspicion. “Color-coded and shaped. Hotel shows red and has a mug shape. Shops show money sign. Green for local stuff, yellow for imports, or any combination when they handle both. Exchanges use diamond shapes striped in gold and silver. Private domes are round and usually leave the tube material undyed. Here.” He lifted a shimmering windsuit from a counter. “Try this.”

Lahks was astounded at the suppleness of the garment. She found the flexibility was the result of thousands of tiny interlocking and overlying scales attached at a single pivot point to the hide beneath. That, too, was unlike any animal skin she had ever seen. It was black and slick and, according to Stoat, a perfect insulator. Boots and gloves were also readily obtained, but the face mask presented unexpected problems. Finally, after much rooting around, a mask of the proper curvature and a sufficiently narrow headband were found.

Lahks bought the equipment, accompanying the purchase with naïve remarks about how interested her friends and family would be in the remarkable material. She appealed repeatedly to Shom in the most tender terms to agree with her, to tell her how she looked. And, upon receiving no reply other than his aimless smile, she protested heatedly to Stoat that he did recognize her, he did.

“It may be, Beldame,” Stoat replied with his sinuous shrug. “But whether he does or not, the quicker you get him off-planet and into the hands of competent psych men, the better it will be.”

This seed planted and immediate needs cared for, they returned to Fanny’s, where the midday meal was making the air pleasantly redolent. This, like supper the night before, was a stew consisting of round sections of a spongy, but tender, meat, cubes of some fungus-type plant, things that looked like bean sprouts and bamboo shoots, and a variety of more familiar Old Terra-type vegetables.

There were a fair number of local residents present. Lahks confined her attention to Shom, petting him, urging him to eat, and speaking to Stoat only of the possibility of obtaining early passage off-planet. To the latter remarks Stoat replied that ships were not frequent, but the Landlord would know when another was due. Lahks stopped Fanny as he went by.

“Can I get someone to take me to the Landlord’s manor?” she asked the gorl.

Fanny glanced at Stoat and then drew his lips back from his fangs. “Mad at Landlord, eh?” he remarked to Stoat. “No good. No help.” He turned his attention to Lahks. “No need. Drom come. Drom lead.” He watched Lahks for a moment, the bright intelligence of his eyes strangely at war with his simplistic speech. “Find seek?” he asked, but the question was rhetorical, because he nodded at Shom. “Good take away. Bad here. Frighten people. No harm but makes afraid.”

Lahks smiled tremulously. “My brother. It is a miracle that he should be here, where I landed. I thought I would have to search and search. I am sure our psych men can cure him. See how he smiles at me? I know he recognizes me.”

Shaking his head, Fanny half-turned away, then swung back to bend low, his eyes on Stoat. “Don’t say go. Landlord never let hunter go: Not five, eight orbits. Hunter not go, hunter not tell what Landlord take.” He drew back and said in a more normal voice, “Maybe not stone-sick. Maybe see big sand crab or big silverfish. Get shocked. Then psych men make better.”

“Stone-sick?” Lahks questioned.

“Some touch stone, everything goes away.” An expression flickered across the anthropoid face and Lahks, who knew how hard it was for nonsimians to see their changes of expression, realized that some really powerful emotion was shaking the gorl. “Once had stone,” Fanny added. “Gone now. Stolen. Get another someday. Wait. Never go home without stone.”

Lahks felt chilled and shuddered openly. “Dreadful things!” she cried. “I wouldn’t take one for a gift! I wouldn’t touch one for anything! Look what it did to my brother. I must get him home quickly.”

A quick flicker of admiration warmed Stoat’s eyes, but he kept them lowered. He appreciated her consummate acting, although he did not intend that anyone else should. Nonetheless, he did not want any suspicion of a hidden heartstone to cling to them. “I don’t think he is stone-sick,” he said softly, but clearly enough for his voice to carry to those who might be listening. “Certainly he did not have one on him when I found him. His camp was intact. No sign of a fight or robbery. There were other bed packs, though. Looked to me as if his guides had gotten caught by a land crab or a silverfish, If they had gotten a stone and run off with it, they would have taken their packs. If you take him home, out of these surroundings, perhaps he will recover.”

Later in the afternoon, when rumor had time to drift up to the manor, if it was going to drift, Lahks came out alone. She had not walked ten steps, thinking largely of the satisfactory comfort of her stillsuit topped by the windsuit and face mask, when a drom sidled up to her. It grinned, bobbed, and suddenly collapsed right in her path, its forelegs, incredibly, folding forward as if its knees were hinged backward. Lahks giggled as she accepted the invitation and seated herself between the humps.

She had expected to feel a knobby spine, as one did whenever an animal was ridden bareback. Instead she sank into a flat, soft, and resilient surface, much like a spaceship foam chair. Looking down to check sense against vision, Lahks observed a flat ridge about eighteen centimeters wide rippling up the drom’s abdomen. It was something she had never noticed before. It was, frankly, an unnatural structure in appearance. Lahks could not imagine a purpose for it, either, until, seconds later, the ridge rose, touched her feet, rose another two centimeters, and stiffened to provide a solid, comfortable footrest.

The drom got up so smoothly that Lahks hardly noticed the change in position and started off toward the manor. Lahks’ head whirled. She leaned forward, her ear against the drom’s side below the hump. Truly she expected to hear the whirr of gears, the high whine of some cybernetic comic’s idea of the perfect, useful joke. All that came was the slow susurrus of unlabored breathing, the regular thump of a strong heart, and the occasional slight gurgle of a digestive system.

It was impossible! What living creature could change its form in seconds to suit its purpose? The question had barely articulated in her brain when the answer came—I can, a little. A Changeling? The drom? With all the force she could muster, Lahks thrust silent questions. Who are you? What are you? In a moment she desisted. The droms were not a newly discovered phenomenon. Doubtless better minds than hers had worked at them. But of all the myriad creatures of the universe, intelligent and nonintelligent, only single-celled amoeboids and the Changelings could significantly alter their form.

In a very large universe, coincidences were neither impossible nor even infrequent. In fact, totally disparate lines of evolution had produced species so similar genetically that they were capable of interbreeding. Still, there was something about the droms, something familiar. Not familiar in the sense that they reminded Lahks of something she knew or remembered familiar in a more basic way, as the hysterical gaiety caused by many rapid transformations had been familiar. A genetic memory? A dim consciousness of racial experience? Impossible to pin down without long, deep analysis, but there was some connection between the tickling hilarity of rapid transformation and the lovable ludicrousness of the droms.

The train of thought was interrupted by the smooth-flowing crouch of the drom. An open gate in the manor wall was to Lahks’ immediate left. She slipped from her seat, patted her mount affectionately, and turned toward the gate. The drom rose and ambled off. As Lahks walked in, a guard straightened up from his lounging position.

“You desire?” he asked pleasantly.

“Hetman Vurn,” Lahks began hesitantly.

“A moment and he will be summoned.”

“It may not be needful,” Lahks replied, insensibly slipping into the slightly archaic speech pattern of the native and deliberately sounding unsure. “Hetman Vurn said he would mention me to the Landlord. He thought . . .”

“A moment, Beldame,” the guard repeated, then signaled to another man farther back.

The title of respect indicated that news of Lahks was already widespread in the manor. It was, in fact, only a few moments before Vurn appeared, dressed in a well-cut tunic and breeches. Lahks pushed her face mask higher up.

“I found my brother,” she said in a tight voice.

The Hetman nodded sadly. “I was afraid it would be so, but I did not wish to be the bearer of bad tidings. It might have been a coincidence.”

“At least I found him and he is alive.” Lahks smiled a sad little half-smile. “I feared worse. We have men who cure sick minds on my home but the longer the sickness, the harder the cure. I must take my brother home, Hetman, as quickly as possible.”

“You had better speak to the Landlord, Beldame.”

Vurn led Lahks past two small domes that were probably guardhouses, around another, larger one, the purpose of which she could not guess, to a third that was larger than Fanny’s hotel. This had a row of the vitreous plates across the door and well around the sides at about eye level for a man. The Hetman made a series of musical sounds, perhaps words in an ancient, long-dead Mongolian tongue, into the speaker tube. Lahks automatically committed sound and tone to memory. The door opened into a wide corridor flanked by many closed doors. Vurn spoke briefly to the guard who had admitted them, then opened the nearest, right-hand side door, which slid silently into the wall on noiseless tracks.

“If you will wait here, Beldame, the Landlord will see you in a few minutes.”

It was a well-furnished reception room, lit by the ever-present transparent panels in the wall and softly glowing light plates in the ceiling. The floor was covered by a magnificent carpet. the fabric of the easy-rest chairs rippled in myriad soothing colors. Small tables, tastefully placed, invited the setting down of food and drink.

Vurn stood aside politely for Lahks to enter. In the doorway she paused, reached into her belt pouch with one hand, and pointed to a nearby table with the other.

“How lovely. Of what is that made?”

Vurn looked, then turned to Lahks courteously. She was just placing a smoke stick between her lips. “Native stone. Beldame. The designs are carved by the wind.” He laughed. “Even the wind has its uses. You would care to eat? To drink?”

“I have eaten, but a cool drink would not come amiss.”

Vurn bowed Lahks to a chair, the nearest to the door, and stepped out. Smoothly, and too swiftly for Lahks to have caught it even from the position she had chosen, the door slid shut. Lahks listened intently; the latch did not click. Swift and silent, she was at the door. A fingertip, an infinitesimal movement proved it to be free. The tiny device she had touched to its lip had, indeed, prevented the latch from catching. She did not know, of course, whether the door would have locked upon closing, but safe was better than sorry.