Part 4 (1/2)
”So you're a skeptic,” said Spoke, as though the word had a bad taste.
”I'm a sane man,” said Mallet. ”And proud of it, brother.”
”I did see something I couldn't explain, once, though,” said Smith thoughtfully.
”I've seen-” began Mallet.
Spoke made a strangling noise and jumped to his feet. He pointed at the statue.
”It turned its head!” he cried.
”No, it didn't,” said Mallet wearily, tasting his soup. Smith turned to look, and went a little pale.
”It is facing the other way now,” he said.
”It's just your imagination,” said Mallet.
”No, I'm sure-”
”I saw it move!” said Spoke. ”Are you both crazy? Look at it!”
”It looks the same to me,” said Mallet. ”But if it did move-well, it's sitting on an uneven surface, right? And we're outdoors. The wind could have s.h.i.+fted it.”
”It's too heavy for the wind to s.h.i.+ft,” said Smith.
”Then, it didn't move,” said Mallet with finality. ”And if you think you saw it move, then your eyes were playing tricks on you, because statues don't move.”
”Look at it,” said Smith. ”I'm not joking, Mallet.”
Mallet turned and looked. ”I didn't notice which way it was facing before. It might have been facing that way, for all I know. We're dead-tired, we haven't eaten in hours, and we breathed in a lot of smoke.
How can we trust what we see?”
Smith looked from Mallet to the statue, shook his head, and leaned forward to stir his soup. Spoke backed away a few paces, watching the statue in silence. After a long moment he sat down again, and without taking his eyes off the statue reached for his helmet. It was hot, and he drew back his hand with a cry of pain.
”Uh-oh! Another bad omen,” said Mallet.
”Just shut up,” said Spoke.
Smith slipped out of his jacket and used it to lift his helmet from the fire, gingerly, and propped the helmet between his boots as he dug in his pack for a tin cup. He dipped out some of the soup and blew on it to cool it. Mallet followed his example. Spoke did not. The statue watched them all without comment, as the light danced on its golden face.
”Aren't you going to eat?” Smith inquired of Spoke.
”Not yet,” said Spoke.
”Can we have your soup, then?” asked Mallet.
”Go ahead,” said Spoke.
”Oh, come on!” said Smith. ”You can't be so scared of that thing you don't eat. That's stupid.”
”Let him suit himself,” said Mallet, slurping his portion.
”I'll have it later, then,” said Spoke. Mallet looked sidelong at Smith.
”So,” he said, ”How'll we divide watches?”
”I'll take first watch,” said Spoke.
”All right,” said Mallet slyly. ”That all right with you, Smith?”
”Fine,” said Smith. He glanced over at the statue.
They finished their soup, tilting the helmets to get out the bits that hadn't dissolved, and pulled blankets out of their packs.
”I'm dead tired,” said Mallet. ”Aren't you, Smith?”
”Too b.l.o.o.d.y right I am,” Smith replied. He felt about on the rock with his hands, trying to find a place where its b.u.mps and hollows roughly corresponded with his own. Giving up at last, he wrapped himself in his blanket and settled down. Mallet spread his blanket out, and opened Spoke's pack.
”I'll just borrow your blanket, then, Spoke, since you'll be sitting up,” he said. ”You won't mind, eh?”
”No, I won't mind,” said Spoke.
Mallet fed a couple of sticks into the fire. He stretched out beside it. Smith s.h.i.+fted to make room for him, glancing one more time at the statue. It did not seem to have moved, but he couldn't be sure.
An hour went by. Tired as he was, Smith couldn't drop off. The stone on which he lay seemed to suck all the heat from his body As he was debating whether to get up and move closer to the fire, he felt Mallet sit up abruptly.
”Drop that right now,” said Mallet. Smith rolled over and saw Spoke, backing away from the fire, clutching the statue in his arms.
”I'm saving all our lives,” said Spoke. ”I'm taking this back.”
”Are you crazy?” Smith said. ”The Briscians will cut you to pieces!”
”You idiot, that's our retirement pay,” said Mallet, who had thrown the blanket aside and scrambled to his feet. He was holding a spike-axe in his hand. ”I knew you were going to do something stupid. Give it here!”
”I-” said Spoke, but Mallet lunged forward and grabbed the statue by one raised arm, the one bearing a tiny dagger.
”Give it here!”
”No!”
And it seemed to Smith, as he stared at them, that the golden figure writhed like a living thing between them, turned its s.h.i.+ning body, and Spoke must have seen it too because he gasped and let go.
Mallet pulled it away from him.
”I'll tell you what,” he said, ”I'll fix your holy saint right now. I'll pound the d.a.m.n thing into pieces right here. The goldsmiths won't care-”
He knelt and set the statue on the rock, preparing to hit it with his spike- axe, but Spoke leaped forward.
”You mustn't-”