Part 27 (1/2)
”What do you believe he will do, friend Ethan?” asked Hunnar as the wooden walls ground shut behind the departing four.
”I don't know. I really don't know. Usually I can tell when I've got a customer bubbled-when I've convinced someone of something-but Trail's too numbed to read. Skua?”
”I don't know either, young feller-me-lad. Trell's tryin' to decide whether immortality's worth the pleasures of the present. It's the old human dilemma: do you live for today or work for a place in heaven?
Problem is, we can't counter with the threat o' h.e.l.l. We'll know in an hour.”
”a.s.suming he refuses, Skua? what _do_ we do?” September said nothing. His expression was answer enough.
*XVIII*
The skimmer hovered alongside the royal raft of the Poyolavomaar fleet. Within the central cabin Trell, RoVijar, and Rakossa conversed. The two peaceforcers stood nearby, chatting idly to each other and ignoring the curious stares of the Tran around them.
”Friend Calonnin,” Trell said wearily, ”I keep telling you but you refuse to understand. I no longer have a choice in this. Events have taken it beyond my control.”
”You are right,” replied RoVijar tightly. ”I do not understand why you say you have no choice. Why do you not use your light weapon to make heart-hashes of those three outworlders and scatter their ashes upon the ocean?”
”It's not a question of three people any more.” Trell sat in the too-large Tran chair and worked his fingers. They rubbed, scratched, entwined and folded upon one another.
”Everything they said about the future of your people is quite correct, given the accuracy of their inter-pretation of the discoveries they made. I'm inclined to accept both. Besides, I like the idea of having my name in the history tapes. You will, too.”
”Your history is not mine.”
”It will be.”
”That remains to be seen.”
”Neither of us will sink into poverty because of these developments, Calonnin. You'll still be Land-grave of Arsudun. As the port of Bra.s.s Monkey expands to handle increased trade from the rest of Tran-ky-ky, Arsudun and you will benefit”
”In how many of your years?”
”Soon, soon,” Trell insisted.
”What of other, new ports?”
”There might be one or two,” Trell conceded. ”But Arsudun will still be foremost.”
”I am little interested in what will occur after I am dead, friend Trell. I am interested only in what will happen tomorrow, perhaps also the day following.”
Trell glanced across the room at a figure standing in shadow. ”What about you, Rakossa of Poyolavomaar? What do you want?”
Rakossa stepped out into the light. ”We have wealth enough to satisfy us for all our future days. We have position and power. As to what happens to our name after we die we care not a k'nith. We do not even care what happens tomorrow, but only today. What do we want? We want justice! These merchants who dare to defy us and I -”
”Yes, I know, I know.” Trell sighed, exasperated by the childish obsessions of these ignorant primitives. ”Calonnin explained to me about the concubine. Your desires are as limited as your vision, Rakossa.”
”You think us beneath you, offworlder. Our vision,” he said in a way which started a funny p.r.i.c.kling at the back of Trell's neck, ”may not be so limited as you think.”
”Meaning what?”
”We attempt to foresee all,” Rakossa explained obtusely. ”That is how we have been able to survive as long as we have in a court filled with intrigues and crafty enemies all about us. They too think we are foolish and mad, that we are blinded by silly desires. But obsession is not blindness, and we are not so ob-sessed that we cannot see possible futures. Cannot see all possibilities.”
Trell's right hand began sliding cautiously toward the pocket in his survival suit, opening the interior heat seal to admit the hand into the coveralls beneath.
”First you said you care only for today. Now you claim to look into the future. You're inconsistent if not truly mad, Rakossa.”
” Tis our way of protecting our desires of today, offworlder.”
Trell had a sudden thought. Hand still moving, he turned a stunned gaze on RoVijar, who had moved to stand against a far wall. ”Calonnin, what is-!”
The first arrow struck the Resident Commissioner just above his pushed-back ice goggles. It glanced off the skull and so failed to kill him outright. Subse-quent arrows did not.
Both RoVijar and Rakossa had ducked from the line of fire, RoVijar out the door he'd ambled so casually toward, Rakossa behind the table and into shadows. Trell had just enough foresight to get off a shot. His beamer pierced only the cabin roof.
As soon as their task was completed, the sailors who'd been hidden in the rafters above and outside the doors and windows returned to their usual tasks. All save a few who were directed by Rakossa.
The bodies of the three dead humans, for the peaceforcers had fallen as well, were rendered almost un-recognizable by the profusion of arrows sticking from them.
”Were so many necessary?” inquired RoVijar, eyeing the corpses a mite uncomfortably.
” 'Twas yourself, Landgrave of Arsudun, who told us you could be not certain of the location of then-vital organs. We do not take chances. Wait!”
The procession halted, their grisly cargo staining the clean wood of the deck. Rakossa walked to stand next to Trell's limp form. Reaching through a small forest of arrows he lifted the vacant-eyed head by its hair, stared into it with blazing black and yellow eyes.
”Think you still so much smarter than us, Trell of the offworlders?” He grinned a bloodthirsty grin at RoVijar. ”Odd. He does not answer. Perhaps we have changed his mind for him.” He let the skull fall with a loose-jointed hobbling, a rotting apple in a stream. The sailors carried the bodies from view.
”Are you certain you can operate the offworlder's great weapon?” he asked Calonnin.
”I tried in many ways most subtle on our journey here to induce Trell to show me, but he was too clever for that. However, when we confronted the humans before the wall, I watched intently as the female pre-pared the machine. I am sure she was ready to protect Trell, so the weapon should have been ready to fire. I memorized the procedure required as best I could.”
”Excellent. What will happen now that we have slain the offworlders' leader?”
”He is but the leader of the single small town they maintain on our world,” RoVijar explained thought-fully, scratching at one ear where a persistent mite had been troubling him for days. ”If you or I were to die, the knights and n.o.bles would rise our offspring or one of their own to the throne. I suspect it is much the same with the skypeople. They will choose one among them to replace Trell until a new leader can be sent from beyond the sky to take his position.
”Whoever they send will know naught of what trans-pired here. Those in their outpost who know me will believe me, will believe my account of his death and that of his companions, as there is naught else for them to believe.”
”And you will remain secure as the only go-between twixt skypeople and Tran.”
” Tis truth, friend, Rakossa.” RoVijar has sloughed off a slight feeling of apprehension. He knew to a certain extent the powers the offworlders possessed. But what of powers he knew nothing about?
Trell had bled and died as readily as any Tran when the arrows transfixed him. No offworlder had arrived to save him or revenge him. It seemed likely none would. He was feeling much, much better now.
”I will control all the trade. As promised, you will receive your recompense for this day's work.”