Voyage to the City of the Dead Read online

  Days passed and the heat intensified, rising past ninety degrees. As it did so the Tsla began shedding their clothing, capes and togas vanishing into packs, not to be used again until the climate of the far north was encountered.

  It was the first time Etienne had seen a Tsla without the familiar cape‑and‑toga attire. They appeared quite comfort­able without it, as if clothing was employed for protection against the elements and possibly to signify social standing, but not because of some primitive nudity taboo.

  Not that they were naked in the human sense, since soft brown fur covered everything except forearms and forelegs. The only surprise was the unexpected presence of a tail, a short stub five to six centimeters in length. It made them look animalistic, though several intelligent races retained tails. The AAnn, for example, considered the retention of a tail as a sign of intelligence, not vice versa.

  In other respects the Tsla were very human, if one dis­counted the six‑fingered hands, six‑fingered toes, and myrmecophagous face. There was one other aspect of their anatomy that interested him. He fully intended to question Lyra about it as soon as he could be sure she wouldn't misinterpret his curiosity. Undoubtedly she would have found his uncertainty amusing.

  By the time the temperature touched one hundred degrees the Mai were shedding their cold‑climate attire, able for the first time in weeks to luxuriate in the stifling heat and hu­midity.

  They reached the bank of the Skar and turned toward Aib. Etienne was looking forward to a cool shower on board the hydrofoil. As soon as they'd cleaned themselves up they'd hand over the second half of the agreed‑upon payment to the local Oyt and make preparations for resuming their journey Upriver.

  That evening they were confronted by the leader of their Mai porters. So rapidly did he talk that even Lyra had trouble following his words. It was left for Homat to interpret.

  "It has something to do with the season of sowing," he explained. "They are all late to help and are anxious to be on their way. There is also talk of local taxes. They come not from Aib itself but from the outlying farming district."

  Lyra nodded knowingly. "I understand. They want to skip with their payment before the local authorities can demand a cut. Perfectly Mai."

  The porters organized a hasty ceremony of departure, took their payment, and left in a rush. Only slightly discom­fited by the heat, the Tsla assumed the second half of the divided burdens. Larger and stronger than the Mai, they had no difficulty with the full loads.

  Two days later they were nearing the outskirts of Aib when Etienne's eyebrows drew together. "That's funny."

  "What is funny, Etienne?" Tyl asked uncertainly.

  Etienne ignored the question. Impolite, but he was con­cerned with something besides alien concepts of courtesy.

  "I don't see the boat, Lyra."

  She strained her eyes. "Neither do I. Your eyesight's better than mine, Etienne, but you're right. I don't see it. Surely that's the dock where we left it moored?"

  "Has to be," he muttered. "See, there's the basaltic out­crop the local ruler used for a dais."

  "Something is wrong?" Tyi asked. "I feared as much. These Mai," he said evenly, not caring whether Homat over­heard him or not, "will steal anything left unguarded for half an anal and consider it moral."

  "We made an arrangement," Etienne explained even as his pace quickened, "with the head of this town to watch our boat for us. We paid him half the set fee prior to our departure."

  Forbearing to say, "I told you so," Homat instead chose to put the best possible light on the situation. "Perhaps the people of Aib are not responsible for the disappearance of the spirit boat."

  "You rationalize hopefully, Homat. What do you really think?"

  The Mai's gaze shifted rapidly from one alien to the other. It was a look Etienne had become familiar with and he has­tened to reassure their guide.

  "You have nothing to fear from us, Homat. We are your friends."

  "You recall, de‑Etienne, how I warned you against this possibility?"

  "All too clearly." They were almost running now. The dock was an empty gesture protruding into the river.

  "I cannot see, de‑Etienne, how the spirit boat could have vanished without the Aibites knowing. If they did not take it themselves, they surely did little to prevent its being taken. I thought you said that it could not be stolen, that it would protect itself."

  "That's what we thought," Etienne replied grimly. "It looks like we were wrong." He looked toward the town. "Let's pay our good friend Gwattwe a visit, shall we?"

  The modest residence of the Oyt of Aib was guarded by a brace of well‑armed but obviously nervous warriors. The Oyt, one of them explained, was not at home.

  "Then you've no objection to our entering to lay tribute at his table?" Lyra replied.

  "I was told to admit no visitors." The soldier looked very unhappy.

  Tyl spoke. "This refusal gains your master no grace, to flagrantly flout the laws of hospitality concerning weary travelers."

  "In addition to which if you don't let us inside, we'll call on our otherworldly spirits to blow the place down." This was more bluff than promise, since an asynapt wouldn't do more than scorch the stone wall before them, but the guard didn't know that.

  The guard looked askance at the pistol riding Etienne's hip, having already assumed it was some sort of weapon. He had no desire to personally discover its capabilities. "I will find out what best be done." He turned and vanished into the domicile, reappearing after a lapse of a few minutes. A curious, hesitant crowd had emerged from other nearby structures. They milled about well clear of the travelers, staring at the pair of aliens and the five Tsla.

  "You are to be admitted," the guard informed them, "but only if you leave your spirit callers outside."

  "Our spirits come with us," Lyra informed him in no­nonsense tones.

  The guard sighed. "I was asked only to request it. Enter."

  The stone and wood edifice was something more than a house and a good deal less than a palace, but was no doubt the best a small town like Aib could afford. Although the matter of their boat's whereabouts occupied most of his thoughts, Etienne still managed to note the mixture of envy and distaste with which the local Mai viewed the Tsla.

  As Etienne had expected, Gwattwe had been there all along. Etienne thought he looked unwell, as if all the tra­ditional bravado had been knocked out of him. Strange. If he intended to bargain for the missing hydrofoil he was be­ginning badly.

  "Where is it?" he snapped at the Oyt, in no mood for protocol.

  "I do not have to guess to what you refer," said the Oyt tiredly. "Your spirit boat is not here."

  "You stole it," Etienne growled. "We trusted you, we left payment as security for that trust which you betrayed. You promised that our property would come to no harm."

  "I lied," said Gwattwe.

  Venerable mastery of diplomacy, Etienne mused sardon­ically. But this wasn't what he'd anticipated when they'd entered the town. Something was wrong here.

  "Where have you hidden it?"

  "We do not have your spirit boat." Gwattwe executed a most profound gesture of regret and helplessness. Tyl was watching him carefully.

  "I believed you when you offered us assurances. Why should I believe you when you offer disclaimers?"

  "It matters not whether you believe me. We do not have your boat. We did not steal it. Oh, we tried to." His expres­sion turned sour. "Most assuredly we tried. Your spirits slew my advisor and several of his students, one at a time." He paused, but if he was expecting some word of contrition from Etienne he was going to have a long wait. He continued.

  "We tried everything that we could think of, but we never had a glimpse of the spirits that watched over your vessel, nor of how they slew." He rose from his couch and balding houris rolled clear of his feet.

  "Then where's our boat?"

  "It pains me to have to tell you that it was stolen."

  "But not by you?"

&n
bsp; "Not by us. Why do you think it pains me?" Clearly Gwattwe of Aib was distressed only because another had succeeded where he had failed.

  "When I lost my best advisors in matters spirit‑wise I finally resolved to contact the renowned Davahassi, who is head advisor to Langai of Hochac."

  Tyl leaned close to Etienne and spoke in Mai. "Hochac is a very bad place. It lies a few legats north of the place where the Aurang flows into the Skar. We rarely trade with them, for the people there are mean of spirit and sometimes prefer to kill for what they want rather than pay for it as many Mai are wont to do."

  Etienne saw Homat stiffen, but the guide held his tongue. He would have to convince Tyl to be a little more circum­spect in his comments concerning the Mai whenever Homat was around.

  "It was hoped that Davahassi might solve the secret of your spirit boat as he has traveled widely and gained much knowledge. He came down by boat with Langai himself and a large escort of advisors. I was suspicious then but didn't know what else to do.

  "They studied your spirit boat for many days and buried three advisors of their own in the river before Davahassi hit upon his plan. The secret, he announced, was to leave the spirits that protected your vessel in place and not to intrude on their privacy, for clearly the craft was their home and they defended it as such from any intruder. But that did not mean that the home itself could not be moved, provided the spirits within were left undisturbed.

  "Therefore at his instructions Langai had a great wooden cage constructed. Many spells were then placed upon the spirit boat as the cage was placed around it and bound in place. It was then dragged from its home, the water, and placed on a platform whence it was transported to the center of Aib. It sat right there while we all celebrated." He pointed toward the town square outside the official residence.

  "During the celebration our spirits were high. All would share in the profit from this action. We relaxed with our good `friends.' Davahassi, may his entrails entice parasites, drugged our fine wine. When we awoke the next day it was found that Langai and his advisors had slipped the spirit boat back into the river. The wooden platform on which it had been placed apparently made a most delighted raft that they used to carry their booty homeward, like carrion eaters.

  "We pursued, but too late, and Langai had stationed sol­diers in the hills between here and Hochac. Certainly we could not have approached by water in time to intercept them." He concluded his tale of woe and lost opportunity with the Mai equivalent of a disgruntled shrug.

  "You see, we did not steal your boat, but it was not for want of trying."

  "How noble of you to say so."

  "A wooden cage," Lyra murmured. "Wood's a rotten conductor. Once out of the water they'd be safe enough so long as they didn't make contact with the hull."

  "`Left the spirits in peace,"' Etienne repeated. "That ex­plains what happened. Nothing's wrong with the ship's de­fensive systems. They just avoided provoking them. I never thought the locals would have enough sense to move the whole boat without trying to get aboard and at the controls or contents." He turned back to Gwattwe.

  "We'd like your help in recovering our property. You can compensate for your own attempted thievery and earn your fee by providing us with a troop of soldiers to help us assault Hochac."

  "Would that such a thing were feasible," Gwattwe mur­mured. "I would do it for the chance at revenge alone, but Hochac is not Aib, hairy one. It is not much larger but it is far stronger. It would take many more soldiers than Aib could provide to overcome it, for Hochac is a walled town and heavily defended. Otherwise it could not withstand the attentions of its neighbors, whom it makes a practice of bullying and defrauding. The Hochacites are known for their love of battle. We of Aib are a peaceful folk."

  "Sticky fingers and now sticky feet." A hand came down gently on his shoulder.

  "Perhaps," Tyl whispered to him in Tsla so that Gwattwe could not understand, "it might be better for us just to go. The Hochacites may be expecting a big attack. If we approach with patience and caution, we may surprise them. But do not inform this one of our intentions. Like all his kind, he may yet find profit in selling such information to those who have already stolen from him. Feuds are like chap' to the Mai, and as permanent as their promises."

  Etienne turned back to the waiting Oyt. "As we appar­ently have lost our craft and cannot recover it, we must return Downriver to the Groalamasan and our base in order to obtain another. You owe us for what we already have paid you."

  "I do not deny that. Business is business," Gwattwe read­ily admitted.

  "We will accept recompense in the form of a couple of riverworthy sailing craft so that we may safely return Downriver."

  Gwattwe looked relieved, if not downright pleased. "That is fair," he said quickly. "The craft you wish will be provided. And may you have a safe journey Downriver."

  Safe it would be, Etienne mused, but they had no intention of heading south.

  Having no reason to ply the Skar, the Tsla were not very good sailors. But Homat felt right at home. With his help, both small boats managed to make their way slowly Upriver.

  They anchored well out in the river away from the walled harbor of Hochac. Occasional fishing boats drifted past and their crews hailed the newcomers. Etienne and Lyra stayed out of sight belowdecks while Homat fielded the passing inquiries. The sight of the Tsla raised curious stares, but many of the drifting fisherfolk were from farther Upriver. Their questions were not threatening. Only a few of the curious called Hochac home port. To them the sight of Tsla on the river was unusual, but hardly cause for alarm.

  Langai of Hochac and his advisor Davahassi might know that the alien owners of the stolen spirit boat had gone to visit with the Tsla, but that wasn't reason enough to connect the off‑worlders to these furry fishermen. As far as Langai and the rest of Hochac knew, Etienne and Lyra Redowl were far away.

  So no soldiers rowed out to inspect the fishermen and the two boats were able to move safely inshore on the heels of nightfall. As soon as it was dark, Etienne and Lyra crept out on the upper deck and produced daynight scopes from their kits.

  "Must be used to attacks." Etienne squinted through his monocular. "The stockade's made of wood instead of stone, but its good and high. Too high to scale easily. You can see places where the individual logs have been scarred by fire. The top is flat and lined with broken glass. Cute."

  "What sign of thy spirit boat?" Tyl asked softly.

  "I can't see a thing besides the stockade, but there's a helluva lot of light from the center of town." He touched a switch on the side of the scope and the tiny long‑range mi­crophone amplified sound along with the light. Homat jumped at the unexpected rush of noise while the Tsla drew back and made signs. Lyra reassured them.

  As soon as Homat had overcome his initial suspicion of the scope, Etienne asked him, "What do you make of this?"

  The Mai moved hesitantly nearer the source of the sounds. "Drums, pipes, flutes, high chanting: they sound as if they are celebrating." His face lit with recognition of a particular chant. "That is what it is. A gathering to celebrate their great triumph over the Aibites and their successful theft. I did not recognize it at first. Many of the words here are different from in Po Rabi."

  "Then we have a chance to surprise them while they're partying."

  "I don't think so, de‑Etienne. They will have the spirit boat carefully watched, lest some of their own fellows try to steal it and sell it Downriver. Anyone clever enough to steal the spirit boat would not be so stupid as to trust his own people."

  Etienne touched the asynaptic pistol riding his hip. "Then we'll just have to walk in and make a polite request for the return of our property." He glanced at his wife but this time Lyra had nothing to say about the prospect of wreaking havoc on the natives.

  Another source did, however. "The taking of lives would be most regrettable." Tyl wore his most soulful expression.

  "I'm sorry too, Tyl, but we have to get our boat back and I'm in no mood
to be nice about it. Not only would its loss mean the end of our expedition, but there are devices on board that could be a real danger to the Mai themselves if they ever managed to figure them out." He wiped sweat from his forehead. The temperature was still over a hundred and ten and the humidity hovered around ninety percent.

  "There's another factor to consider. Lyra and I could probably obtain transportation back down to the Skatandah Delta, but we couldn't take months of this heat."

  "I do not dispute the need to recover thy property, Etienne. I only abhor the necessity of taking lives through violence."

  "We'll do as little shooting as possible."

  "A very exuberant celebration." Homat was still listening intently to the amplified sounds coming from beyond the stockade as the two boats slipped into the harbor. "Siask!" he suddenly snapped, dropping to the gunwale. Etienne and Lyra immediately flattened themselves below the seats.

  "What is it? What's the matter?"

  "A patrol, I think. What do we do now?"

  "If I may be permitted?"

  Etienne glanced down toward Tyl. "You have something in mind?"

  "You and thy Lyra must remain concealed, for on sight of thee the alarm will surely be raised, but thy friend Homat will only be questioned, especially if we show ourselves. It is unusual, as you know, for we of the Tsla to come down to the river. These warriors should be intrigued by our pres­ence but not alarmed, for it is well known that we love peace and harm no one."

  "Good idea, Tyl. You put them off their guard long enough for Lyra and me to get close enough to bring them down."

  Tyl's proboscis twitched with amusement. "That would be too risky, would it not?" He gestured toward his com­panions. "We will undertake the necessary action."

  "Wait a minute." Lyra looked confused. "What about what you just said, Tyl, about loving peace and not harming anyone?"

  Etienne shushed her. "Don't confuse our guests. Let's see what these pacifists can do when they want to, shall we? Think of it as an interesting footnote to your research."

  She gave him an angry stare, but said nothing. They hid themselves beneath a section of sail as the Tsla rowed the boats into shore. He had a sudden crazy urge to pinch her but managed to suppress it.