band
formed a long line and moved off toward the east. The Ilanth scouts set forth
and followed at a discreet distance. In the morning they returned to report
that the band seemed to be veering to the north.
Late in the
afternoon the Aig-Hedajha caravan arrived, laden with leather, aromatic logs
and mosses, tubs of pickles and condiments.
Baojian the
caravan-master took his wagons and drays out upon the steppe, to effect
exchanges and transshipments. Derricks rolled between the two caravans,
swinging goods back and forth; porters and drivers toiled and strained, sweat
rolling down their naked backs and into their loose brown breeches.
An hour
before sunset the transfer of goods had been effected and a call came into the
common-room for all passengers. Reith, Traz, Anacho and the Flower of Cath
started across the compound. The priestesses were nowhere to be seen; Reith
assumed that they were aboard their house.
They walked
out under the rock juts toward the caravan. There was a sudden jostle; arms
gripped Reith in a bear-hug and he was pressed against a soft wheezing body. He
struggled; the two toppled to the ground. The Grand Mother gripped him in her
massive legs. Another priestess seized the Flower of Cath and dragged her at an
awkward lope out to the caravan. Reith lay enfolded in masses of flesh and
muscle. A hand squeezed his throat; blood surged through his arteries and his
eyes began to start. He managed to free an arm, drove stiff fingers up into the
Grand Mother’s face, into something moist. She gasped and wheezed; Reith found
her nostrils, clenched, twisted; she cried out and kicked; Reith rolled free.
An Ilanth was
rummaging through his pack; Traz lay limp on the ground; Anacho was coolly
defending himself against the swordplay of the remaining two Ilanths. The Grand
Mother grabbed for Reith’s legs; Reith kicked furiously, won free, lurched
aside as the Ilanth investigating his pack looked up and flicked a knife at
him. Reith struck up at the lemon-yellow chin with his fist; the man went down.
Reith leapt on the back of one of the Ilanths who were attacking the Dirdirman,
bore him down, and Anacho deftly stabbed him. Reith side-stepped a thrust from
the third Ilanth, seized the outstretched arm, threw the man cartwheeling over
his shoulder. The Dirdirman, standing by, struck down with his sword, nearly
cutting through the yellow neck. The remaining Ilanth took to his heels.
Traz,
tottering to his feet, stood holding his head. The Grand Mother was at this
moment mounting the steps into the drayhouse.
Reith in all
his existence had never been so angry. He picked up his pack, marched to where
Baojian the caravan-master stood directing the passengers to their
compartments.
“I was
attacked!” stormed Reith. “You must have noticed! The priestesses have dragged
the Cath girl into their house and hold her prisoner!”
“Yes,” said Baojian.
“I saw something of the sort.”
“Well, then,
assert your authority! Enforce your ban on violence!”
Baojian gave
his head a prim shake. “The affair occurred on that strip of the steppe between
the compound and the caravan, where I make no effort to maintain order. It
appears that the priestesses have recovered their property in the same manner
by which they lost it. You have no cause for complaint.”
“What?”
roared Reith. “You’ll let them inflict an innocent person with their Female
Mystery?”
Baojian held
out his hands. “I have no choice. I cannot police the steppe; I do not care to
try.”
Reith burnt
him with a stare of fury and contempt, then turned to examine the priestesses’
dray-house.
Baojian said,
“I must caution you against disorderly conduct while you are a passenger. I
meticulously enforce caravan discipline.”
Reith for a
space could find no words. At last he stuttered, “Have you no concern for evil
deeds?”
“‘Evil’?”
Baojian laughed sadly. “On Tschai the word has no meaning. Events exist-or they
do not exist.
formed a long line and moved off toward the east. The Ilanth scouts set forth
and followed at a discreet distance. In the morning they returned to report
that the band seemed to be veering to the north.
Late in the
afternoon the Aig-Hedajha caravan arrived, laden with leather, aromatic logs
and mosses, tubs of pickles and condiments.
Baojian the
caravan-master took his wagons and drays out upon the steppe, to effect
exchanges and transshipments. Derricks rolled between the two caravans,
swinging goods back and forth; porters and drivers toiled and strained, sweat
rolling down their naked backs and into their loose brown breeches.
An hour
before sunset the transfer of goods had been effected and a call came into the
common-room for all passengers. Reith, Traz, Anacho and the Flower of Cath
started across the compound. The priestesses were nowhere to be seen; Reith
assumed that they were aboard their house.
They walked
out under the rock juts toward the caravan. There was a sudden jostle; arms
gripped Reith in a bear-hug and he was pressed against a soft wheezing body. He
struggled; the two toppled to the ground. The Grand Mother gripped him in her
massive legs. Another priestess seized the Flower of Cath and dragged her at an
awkward lope out to the caravan. Reith lay enfolded in masses of flesh and
muscle. A hand squeezed his throat; blood surged through his arteries and his
eyes began to start. He managed to free an arm, drove stiff fingers up into the
Grand Mother’s face, into something moist. She gasped and wheezed; Reith found
her nostrils, clenched, twisted; she cried out and kicked; Reith rolled free.
An Ilanth was
rummaging through his pack; Traz lay limp on the ground; Anacho was coolly
defending himself against the swordplay of the remaining two Ilanths. The Grand
Mother grabbed for Reith’s legs; Reith kicked furiously, won free, lurched
aside as the Ilanth investigating his pack looked up and flicked a knife at
him. Reith struck up at the lemon-yellow chin with his fist; the man went down.
Reith leapt on the back of one of the Ilanths who were attacking the Dirdirman,
bore him down, and Anacho deftly stabbed him. Reith side-stepped a thrust from
the third Ilanth, seized the outstretched arm, threw the man cartwheeling over
his shoulder. The Dirdirman, standing by, struck down with his sword, nearly
cutting through the yellow neck. The remaining Ilanth took to his heels.
Traz,
tottering to his feet, stood holding his head. The Grand Mother was at this
moment mounting the steps into the drayhouse.
Reith in all
his existence had never been so angry. He picked up his pack, marched to where
Baojian the caravan-master stood directing the passengers to their
compartments.
“I was
attacked!” stormed Reith. “You must have noticed! The priestesses have dragged
the Cath girl into their house and hold her prisoner!”
“Yes,” said Baojian.
“I saw something of the sort.”
“Well, then,
assert your authority! Enforce your ban on violence!”
Baojian gave
his head a prim shake. “The affair occurred on that strip of the steppe between
the compound and the caravan, where I make no effort to maintain order. It
appears that the priestesses have recovered their property in the same manner
by which they lost it. You have no cause for complaint.”
“What?”
roared Reith. “You’ll let them inflict an innocent person with their Female
Mystery?”
Baojian held
out his hands. “I have no choice. I cannot police the steppe; I do not care to
try.”
Reith burnt
him with a stare of fury and contempt, then turned to examine the priestesses’
dray-house.
Baojian said,
“I must caution you against disorderly conduct while you are a passenger. I
meticulously enforce caravan discipline.”
Reith for a
space could find no words. At last he stuttered, “Have you no concern for evil
deeds?”
“‘Evil’?”
Baojian laughed sadly. “On Tschai the word has no meaning. Events exist-or they
do not exist.
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