Voyage to the City of the Dead Read online

  Lyra thought a moment, leaned over to call toward the cockpit. "Irquit thinks the four fishing boats coming Down­river toward us might be trying to ensnare us in their nets."

  Etienne wished the hydrofoil's scanner could provide more detail. "What's your opinion, Lyra?"

  "I don't know what to think, but I don't want to take any unnecessary chances. I'd like to find out so that we'll have a better idea what to expect in case the same situation reoc­curs in the future. Let's do our guesswork now."

  He nodded. "We'll let them play all their cards, then. Tell Irquit not to worry. I can handle it."

  "Handle?" Irquit was trying to divide her attention be­tween the stocky human female and the suspiciously active fishing boats dead ahead. "What does de‑Etienne mean `han­dle?"' The boats were near enough now for the otolk wood floats to stand out clearly against the water.

  "He means he's ready to deal with. any hostile moves."

  "But you must move away, move to avoid them while there is still time! I know that the spirit boat can move quickly to the side, and..."

  "Have a calming, Irquit. Etienne knows what he's doing. Everything's under control."

  A gentle shudder ran through the hydrofoil's hull as the bow made contact with the heavy nets and two of the oblong floats. As they continued Upriver, pushing the net with their bow, the four fishing boats were drawn toward each other ... and the hydrofoil was caught between them.

  Explosive roars of triumph sounded from all four Mai vessels and ail pretense vanished. It was suddenly clear that they were interested in tougher quarry than fish. Gaffs gave way to long pikes and spears, and the chanting that accom­panied the appearance of these weapons was very different from that which had provided a quaint backdrop to the land­ing of the arwawl.

  Homat began to moan and rock from side to side. "Doomed we are. These river primitives will show us no mercy!"

  Irquit merely looked resigned. "I warned you, de‑Lyra."

  "And you were right," the xenologist replied calmly as she turned again toward the cockpit bubble. "We've estab­lished their real intentions, Etienne. I've made my record­ings." She paused as something whizzed past overhead. "Let's not hang around. They have bows."

  "Don't you want to observe native weaponry in action?"

  She ducked as a wood‑and‑bone shaft splintered against the deck. "Don't get funny, honey. If you want to linger, we can switch places first."

  "Never mind." He grinned at her as he gunned the engine. The jet nozzle pivoted a hundred and eighty degrees until it was facing toward the bow.

  "Hold tight," Lyra warned the two morose Mai. They barely had time to reach for handholds before the hydrofoil shot backward in full reverse. Suddenly nothing kept the four fishing boats apart. The nets fell limp into the river.

  The chanting subsided as the would‑be pirates watched their quarry vanish astern at sixty kph. Then crews rushed to the oars as all four crews realized there was nothing to stop their momentum. Frantic yells and curses replaced the warlike chanting of a moment earlier.

  Etienne slowed and reversed direction once more, watch­ing with interest as the four fishing boats, still linked together by their nets and lines, slewed inexorably toward each other. Loud snapping sounds filled the air as hastily manned oars were splintered against colliding hulls. Curses were drowned by shouts of confusion and conflicting orders as nets became tangled with rudders and broken oars.

  Keeping well beyond arrow range, he edged the hydrofoil easily around their would‑be captors, toward the center of the river. A few of the unhappy fisherfolk, unable to attack with their short bows, settled for bombarding the spirit boat with ferocious insults. Homat stifled his laughter at their plight long enough to translate those couched in the local dialect or too complex for Lyra to understand. She patiently entered them all into her journal under a subheading drolly labeled MAI INVECTIVE‑LOCAL VARIANTS AND DIALECTS. All grist for the xenological mill.

  Etienne half‑expected some of the other fisherfolk to aid their brethren in the attack, but he was pleasantly disap­pointed. Instead of joining in, the Mai who'd stood to the side to watch were lining the sides of their own vessels and cheering the spirit boat's escape.

  "That's not the reaction I expected," he shouted toward the speaker membrane. "Irquit, what's going on? They don't seem angry at our escape."

  "Why should they be? They chose not to participate in the attack on us. So they do not share in its failure. They admire the successful, no matter where they come from. So they applaud our escape." Irquit leaned over the railing to peer astern. The four badly entangled fishing boats continued their steady drift Downriver.

  "By the time they get themselves separated, de‑Etienne, they will have a long hard row Upriver to return to their homes. That will give them time to think anew about trying to capture a spirit boat. I hope not many were hurt. There is much confusion."

  "And I hope half fall overboard and drown." Homat spat over the side. "Let the river eat them. May they stew in their own urine! We meant them no harm and still they would have slain us!"

  Lyra paused in her note‑taking. "It's difficult for poor people to turn down the chance to acquire great wealth, Homat. I'm not defending their actions, understand, but I can empathize with their feelings." She had to use four con­nected nouns to make the idea of empathy comprehensible to the Mai guide. "Do you think we'll be subject to more such attacks?"

  Irquit made a gesture of uncertainty. "Who can predict? As you say, de‑Lyra, your spirit boat represents power and wealth to all who set eyes upon it. Your property will be coveted from the Skatandah to the region of ice." Another thin smile. "Clearly any who try will have much difficulty in taking it."

  "We can take care of ourselves," Lyra assured her.

  "That is proven. I will not dance with worry next time. None can threaten the spirit boat."

  "Oh, we're not omnipotent," Lyra corrected her, "but we're far from defenseless. If necessary we can do more than just dodge gill nets."

  "Yes. I have seen the weapons that rest in the holders alongside the round tiller de‑Etienne steers the spirit boat with."

  "Those are only for use in dire emergency," Lyra said firmly. "We carry them to defend us against dangerous an­imals, not intelligent peoples. My Zanur would be very upset with us if we used them against your people."

  "My people are the people of Po Rabi," Irquit replied, indicating with gentle bloodthirstiness that it wouldn't bother her in the least if it became necessary to shoot a few riverfolk. Lyra sighed inwardly. Once upon a time, back in the tribal days, her ancestors had felt similarly. A few throw­backs still did.

  The kilometers slid beneath the hydrofoil's keel by the hundreds, the Skar still running wide and slow, the distant walls of the Barshajagad still rendered invisible by haze and distance. Lyra began to enjoy the bargaining for supplies that took place whenever they pulled in to shore.

  "You can learn a lot by watching Homat and Irquit," she told Etienne on more than one occasion.

  He would nod politely, but the methodology of native batter didn't intrigue him. Instead, he spent the trading time sequestered atop the observation mast with one eye glued to the telescope, studying the nearing lower slopes of the canyon with their irrigated fields and elaborate terraces.

  As a precaution, they spent each night well out in the middle of the Skar. The hydrofoil's autoalarms would alert them to the presence of any potential danger.

  Occasionally, Etienne would vary the routine by climbing the mast to turn the telescope skyward, quizzing himself by trying to identify the strange constellations overhead. On this particular early morning there was no rain and few clouds. The humidity was lower than usual and the temperature had plunged into the nineties. He was very surprised to see Homat's wide‑eyed hairless face appear outside the transparent scope enclosure. The guide looked nervous, and not from the height.

  Etienne unfastened the plastic to admit the edgy Mai.

  "Somethin
g wrong, Homat?" he inquired solicitously.

  "I‑I must talk with you, de‑Etienne."

  "Must be important to bring you up here from beneath a warm blanket."

  "It is, very important."

  "Just a second." Etienne swung the telescope aside on its gimbaled mount to make more room, thoughtfully shut off the blower that was pouring refrigerated air into the enclo­sure.

  As soon as the temperature had warmed, Homat entered and sealed the entrance behind him. In the cramped space atop the mast Etienne was more conscious than ever of his bulk compared to that of the diminutive native.

  "What is it?" Beyond Homat he could see two of Tsla­maina's four moons gleaming on the river. The other two would appear within the hour, he knew.

  "For a long time I have meant to do this, but I did not know how to do it and have not had a chance to do it."

  "Do what?"

  "Warn you, de‑Etienne. You and de‑Lyra are in great danger."

  Etienne leaned back in the narrow swivel chair and smiled at the native's concern. He swung one leg idly back and forth.

  "We're in constant danger, yes. The fisherfolk we just ran into Downriver demonstrated that."

  "No, no!" Homat whispered intently. "Not that. The dan­ger of which I speak is nearer and more insidious."

  Etienne studied the guide's face closely. "Homat, what is it you're so frightened of?"

  "I am not bold by nature," he explained anxiously. "I have traveled as widely as I have not because I desired to but because I was ordered to do so by those who employed me.

  "Now I have found that I cannot go on without telling what I know, de‑Etienne. Something within pushes me to make confession. All my life I have been a small person, one who scrapes and nods and follows the orders of others. You and de‑Lyra have treated me most fair, better than I have ever been treated by any other employers. I have come to like you very much. For the first time in my life, someone makes me feel important. It is a feeling I want to keep."

  "Why shouldn't you?" Etienne found himself taken aback by the unexpectedly emotional confession.

  "Because of Irquit."

  "Irquit? What can she do to you?"

  Homat's wide eyes darted nervously around the plastic enclosure. "Are you sure no one can hear what we say?"

  "Of course I'm sure. The intercom's not on and we're high above the rest of the boat. Homat, explain yourself. Why are you so afraid of Irquit all of a sudden? I hadn't noticed that she's been treating you badly. She's been very helpful."

  "That is her task. To be helpful until..." he hesitated. "Mai‑with‑Hair, remember that what I am about to tell you is worth my life‑Irquit is the direct representative of the Zanur of Po Rabi."

  Etienne was beginning to lose patience with his visitor. His viewing time was slipping away and he wanted to get in some sleep before sunrise.

  "We already know that, Homat. You are, too."

  "No! I am a hired guide. She is responsible only to the Zanur itself. Tell me, de‑Etienne, have you not remarked on her intense interest in your spirit boat and its functions?"

  "Naturally. Do you think we're only attuned to technol­ogy? My wife is particularly sensitive to the actions of," he almost said primitive peoples, but quickly changed it to "other individuals. Irquit's interest is only natural. Lyra ought to know. She's studied guests on other worlds beyond this one."

  "I know what that means, de‑Etienne," Homat replied somberly. "Tell me: on those other worlds did she ever en­counter any assassins?"

  Chapter Five

  Etienne's smile vanished and he sat up straighter in his chair. His impatience was replaced by sudden interest.

  "Would you mind explaining what you mean, Homat?"

  The guide shifted nervously. "Your wonderful craft makes use of many impossible‑to‑understand spirits, de‑Etienne, but it seems to me not so difficult to command them."

  "Operation is highly simplified for users not technically oriented, yes."

  "Simple enough for Irquit to operate?"

  "Maybe, if she were to stick to basic go‑stop type di­rections. What about it?"

  Homat gestured forward, past the moonlit bow. "Tomor­row we are to stop at the village of Changrit to restock our larder. Changrit has an alliance with Po Rabi."

  "I didn't think Po Rabi's influence extended this far north," Etienne told him.

  "Changrit is independent. It is a trade alliance only, but that is enough when much is at stake. Long before Ambas­sador de‑Kelwhoang delivered us to you to serve as your guides, river riders were sent racing north to Changrit. An understanding was achieved with the Moyt of Changrit." He brushed absently at the single knot of long hair that trailed from the top of his head.

  "The ambush is to take place at night, while you are anchored out in the Skar and less on guard. Your spirit boat is to be taken so that its secrets and treasures may be shared by Changrit and Po Rabi." He hesitated only for a moment. "You and your mate, of course, will not survive."

  "I see," Etienne said quietly. "Suppose Irquit proves un­able, despite her studies, to operate the boat?"

  "All is planned for. In that event it is to be loaded upon a barge and shipped Downriver."

  "I don't see any problem, Homat. We just won't stop near Changrit for supplies. Even if they're lying in wait for us out in the river we can simply run past them."

  "It may not be so easy, de‑Etienne. Even now word is relayed along the riverbank marking our progress. The fight­ers of Changrit will be ready to challenge you no matter when you try to pass their city."

  "I'm curious. How did the Zanur plan to explain our disap­pearance, in the event our friends back at Steamer Station learned of it?"

  "You have been watched and studied. Not all who sought to talk with your mate while you waited to travel were simple fisherfolk. Changrit was chosen because it is the northern­most city with which Po Rabi has an alliance and it was believed to lie beyond range of your talk‑through‑air spirits."

  "That's right enough."

  "There is no reason why your friends should connect your disappearance to Po Rabi or any other city. For all they will know you perished when your boat sank in the Skar, as many boats do."

  "And what if our friends come looking for us and find our boat in the possession of the Zanur, or the Moyt of Chan­grit?"

  "Then it is to be said that you were swamped by an ar­wawl, that this was seen from shore, and that your boat was towed to safety but not in time to save its crew. I am not privy to all the details, as Irquit is."

  "But they had to tell you this much so that you could help at the critical moment."

  "Yes." Homat dropped his gaze, unwilling to meet his benefactor's eyes. "My ancestors are ashamed."

  "All right, you've told me about the proposed attack. That doesn't make Irquit an assassin."

  "She will become one only if it proves necessary," Homat explained. "She is there to make certain the attack does not fail. When it comes she will pretend surprise and will appear to aid you, but if it looks like the attack may fail, she is to choose a moment when you are not on guard to push you overboard or put a knife in your back. Have you not noticed her skill on things bigger than vegetables." He looked away.

  "I just thought she was a deft cook," he muttered.

  "Deft indeed, de‑Etienne. I have seen her demonstrate her skill on things bigger than vegetables." He looked away. "I was to help in all this, of course."

  "Of course," Etienne said dryly. He reached out and pushed a button. A tired moan came from the grid.

  "What is it? I was just getting into a really decent dream."

  "Would you come up here a minute, hon? I'm observing something I think you'd find intriguing."

  "Come on, Etienne. Maybe tomorrow night."

  "It may be less visible tomorrow night. I wish you'd come up now. Our position tomorrow will be radically different."

  "All right, all right," she snapped back at him. "This better be good."
r />   He waited in the enclosure with the nervous Homat until a sleepy‑eyed Lyra had ascended the mast to join them. There was very little room to move around with three of them atop the platform.

  "What now?" She was still blinking sleep from her eyes, but her expression turned to one of confusion when. she noticed Homat.

  "Where's Irquit?" Etienne asked her.

  "Irquit? What's she got to do with? ... On the stern deck, I would imagine, blissful in the arms of the local represen­tative of Morpheus. What the hell's going on up here?"

  "Homat has something to tell you."

  Lyra listened quietly as the guide repeated the tale he had told Etienne. She considered quietly for several long mo­ments once he'd finished.

  "We could turn back. We're scientists, not soldiers‑of‑fortune and not hard‑contact explorers. We're not prepared to deal with large‑scale local antagonism. If this town is linked by treaty and duplicity to Po Rabi, we can apply for clearance and protection with the Zanur of Losithi."

  Etienne looked doubtful. "Wouldn't work. Word will reach Po Rabi and they'll know we found them out. That could put them into open conflict with Losithi. We don't want to be responsible for starting a major local war. Besides which there's no guarantee we'd fare any better with the Zanur of Losithi than we already have with Po Rabi. Better the devil you know, et cetera."

  "They are as envious of your technology as is the Zanur of Po Rabi," Homat agreed.

  "Then there's the distance we've already come. Returning and retracing our steps would take at least a month, even if we were lucky enough to obtain immediate permission from Losithi. We've passed the equator and we're above the worst of the climate. Not that this oven has suddenly become com­fortable, but it's bound to improve.

  "I've no desire to retrace our steps, restudy what we've already thoroughly recorded, and I'm sure you don't either, Lyra. And there's always the chance that Losithi could ar­range a similar kind of ambush when we resumed our jour­ney, and they'd be better prepared for us than these Changritites are likely to be. The geology's finally starting to get interesting, Lyra. I don't want to go back to taking mud samples for an additional two months. Despite Homat's fears I don't imagine we'll have any trouble passing through whatever barrier of nets and ropes the locals can erect."