E.C Tubb - Eye of the Zodiac

"What lies beyond?"

"The valley of the Candarish. We'll camp there tonight."

It was small, sealed, the crest of the slopes topped by a tangled mass of thorn-bearing trees, the slopes themselves scored by terraced fields. On the level bottom horned cattle cropped at lush grass, the animals attended by boys. The village was a cluster of low houses built of stone and turf, the roofs gabled, the windows open slits which could be closed with curtains of leather.

A cluster of inhabitants came forward as the raft landed; men wearing rough garments of fabric and leather, the arms and shoulders of their jackets ornamented with tufts of colored fur. The women wearing long loose robes which trailed in the dirt, their heads covered, their faces veiled. Children, pot-bellied, dirty, their hair oily and lank, watched with enormous eyes.

"My friends!" Chaque jumped down from the raft and stood with both hands uplifted. "We come in peace, to trade, to bring gifts, to learn of your wisdom. Who is chief among you?"

"He stands before you." A wrinkled oldster, his eyes filmed with cataracts, his mouth wet with spittle, took one step towards the guide. "Are you known to us?"

"My gifts are my welcome. Tools of metal and cloths of bright colors."

"A trader." The old man nodded. "You are welcome. Come into my house and we shall talk."

He turned, walked away, Jalch Moore and the guide following him. From where she stood at Dumarest's side Iduna said, quietly, "The depths to which men can sink. They live in dirt and ignorance. Yet, only a relatively short journey away, lies the door to the stars."

"A door that can't be reached." Dumarest looked at the crest of the valley. The setting sun caught the leaves, turned them into a barrier of flame. "What does your brother hope to learn here?"

"A clue, perhaps a rumor, something to lead him to the Kheld." She jumped down from the raft. "Shall we walk a little? See what is to be seen."

Dumarest hesitated, looking at the men who stood, still watching them. They carried knives, but little else. One had a spear, another a crossbow, two more holding staves with rounded ends. From the feeding cattle came a soft lowing and, without a word, several women turned and headed towards them.

"Earl?"

It seemed to be safe enough, yet he knew that nothing could be taken for granted. A display of weapons might be taken amiss, yet to leave them behind was to beg for trouble.

A raft loaded with goods, four people, one a woman-a temptation the Candarish might not be able to resist.

"Go if you want, Iduna. I'll stay here."

She was back within the hour, her boots soiled, grime on her hands and face. Without a word she washed, using water from a canteen. Then, picking up a rifle, checked the load.

"Trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle. A young buck thought he had the right to touch me."

"And?"

"I taught him differently." She smiled at his expression. "Don't worry about it, Earl. I only hurt his pride."

Perhaps the worst thing she could have done, as she should have known. Dumarest picked up his rifle.

"Stay here," he ordered. "Don't leave the raft until I return."

A fire had been lit before the houses, a great pile of brushwood which had been set to dry in the sun. It threw a ruddy, dancing glow in which the feeble, oil-burning wicks within the houses were dimmed to pale splotches of luminescence. Dumarest headed away from the fire, moving in a wide circle, eyes narrowed, ears tense for the slightest sound. He caught the pad of naked feet, the inhalation of breath and dropped, the rifle lifting.

The sounds died, but instinct warned him that he was not alone. He moved, carelessly silhouetted against the glow of the fire, dropping as something flashed out of the darkness towards him.

A spear which sliced the air above him, to land with a dull thud in the dirt behind. Another came, held by a pair of hands, the point stabbing where he lay. He rolled over, slammed the barrel of the rifle against naked shins, rose as the man fell, screaming.

"Earl?"

He ignored the woman's call. With his back to the fire, he retained his night-vision. Those who faced him would lose it. Against that he made a clear target, trusting to his speed to defeat any attack.

It came immediately. Two men, young, strong, faces bathed in the firelight, rose from the ground to leap towards him. One held a club, the other a staff. One attacking high, the other low.

Dumarest fired, aiming to kill, dodging as the staff aimed towards his skull. He fired again, running as the man fell.

"Iduna! Lift the raft! Lift it!"

"What's happening?" Chaque appeared at the door of a house, Jalch Moore peering over his shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Get to the raft! Move!"

Dumarest fired again as figures appeared on each side of the men. One fell, blood gushing from his mouth, his lungs ripped by the missile. The other, luckier, spun and fell nursing a broken shoulder.

"An attack?" Chaque was quick to grasp what was happening. "The raft, quickly!"

Dumarest covered them as they ran, men pouring from the houses to go after them, spear-points glinting in the firelight. One hit the guide on the forearm, cutting into flesh before the spear dropped free. Then he reached the hovering raft, had flung himself over the edge, Moore following close behind.

"Earl?"

"Coming!" Dumarest ran forward, emptying the magazine, throwing the rifle into the raft, leaping to grab the edge as it rose. Within seconds, he was aboard.

"What happened?" Moore looked stunned. "We were talking quietly when we heard a scream, then shots. You, Earl?"

"Yes."

"Have you gone mad? Do you realize what you did? I was about to learn something, a fact of great importance, and you ruined everything. Iduna! Return at once. We can smooth things out."

She said nothing, increasing their height, the fire now a distant point below.

Nursing his arm Chaque said, "Be careful, girl. Set us down as soon as you can. It would be stupid to run from spears and smash into a mountain."

* * * * *

They landed in a shallow dell in a place high and far from the valley, Iduna setting down the raft gently, guided by the blazing glow of a flare. By the light of a lantern Dumarest examined the guide's arm, finding only a shallow gash, binding it with materials taken from a medical cabinet. Jalch Moore was harder to please.

"You ruined everything," he accused. "Why did you have to fire at shadows? I trusted Hausi and I trusted my own convictions. In both cases, apparently, I was wrong. Or is there some reason why you don't want me to find the Kheld?"

Paranoia, trembling on the brink of complete insanity. Dumarest said, patiently. "It was a trap. They intended to surprise us. While you two were kept in conversation, we were to have been killed. I anticipated them, that's all."

"I don't believe it! Chaque?"

"It's possible," admitted the guide. "A small party carrying a fortune in goods, yes, it's possible. We wouldn't have been the first expedition to be lost in the mountains."

"But the information he was going to give me-"

"Words." said Dumarest. "Empty talk to keep you occupied. You underestimate the old man. He only told you things you wanted to hear."

"No!"

"You were with him for over an hour. What did you learn? Nothing. An entire hour-that alone made me suspicious. With people like the Candarish you trade first and talk afterwards." A thing Chaque should have known, but Dumarest didn't mention that. There was no room for recrimation in such a small party. "We'll eat," he decided. "Eat and rest. In the morning, we'll figure out what to do."

"There is no question about that," said Moore coldly. "We go on."

"To where?"

"Here!" Moore unfolded a map and tapped it with his finger. "Towards the east and upwards to this plateau. There is mention of it in the Eldrain Saga. There could be signs, symbols, evidence of the Kheld. The Candarish could have helped us-but it's too late for that now."

And perhaps too late for many things. Thwarted, Jalch Moore could turn vicious. Dumarest had noted the bulge under his blouse, the weight of a laser. Defied he would use it, killing without consideration, damaging the raft beyond repair, stranding them all. And Earl still had to find the object of his own search.

"If the Kheld exist we'll find them," he promised. "Now, Iduna, how about that food? Chaque, you'd better check the raft while I look around."

The dell was set on the summit of a pinnacle of stone, a dead vent which had become blocked and filled with wind-blown soil. The vegetation was springy, tough fibers matted into a compact whole. A place safe from any but airborne attack-one during which they would starve if anything happened to the raft.

Later, as he sat watching the wheel of the stars, Iduna came to sit beside him.

"Earl, it was my fault, wasn't it."

"The attack? No."

"I've been thinking. If I hadn't rejected that young buck-but I couldn't bear that he touch me."

"He was anticipating," said Dumarest. "If you hadn't fought he would have taken you, hidden you safely away somewhere."

"For later use," she said bitterly. "For him and his friends, and any other man who chose to use me. Animals!"

"You were strange. A female who dressed like a man. He'd probably never seen a woman's naked face before."

"Savages! Beasts!"

"Primitives," he corrected. "With a rigid culture and elaborate customs. You were outside the framework of his experience. Dress like a man-be treated like a man. Had we been killed and you kept alive, the women would have stoned you to death. To them you would have been unnatural. Dangerous. A thing to be destroyed."

She said, oddly, "Do you think I'm unnatural, Earl?"

"No."

"Some men do. They wonder what I look like when naked and hint that my interest lies only with other women. They don't understand."

A lonely child, perhaps. A father who had wanted only sons, an elder brother to emulate. And, if she had worked in the field as she had claimed, then the clothes would have been an elementary precaution to have diminished her attraction.

"It's late," he said. "You should get some rest."

"Sleep while you stand guard?"

"It's what I'm paid to do." He wished that she would leave him, sensing her feminine curiosity, the desire to probe. From behind the raft Chaque coughed, a harsh rasping sound in the stillness. Within the vehicle itself Jalch Moore turned, restless in his sleep.

"Earl!"

He turned as she came towards him, her arms lifted, embracing his neck, her hands pulling him close to press her lips against his own. For a moment he felt the demanding heat of her body. Then, as Jalch turned again, muttering, she drew slowly away.

"My brother-he needs me."

"Yes."

"Goodnight, Earl."

"Goodnight."

The night grew old. Dumarest woke Chaque to stand his turn at watch, then settled down to sleep. He woke with the sudden alertness of an animal, one hand reaching up to the shadow looming above, the other lifting the knife.

"Earl!" Chaque clawed at the hand which gripped his throat, recoiling from the knife which pricked his skin. "Don't! It's me!"

"What's wrong?"

"Something. I don't know what. Listen."

It came from above. A thin, eerie chittering, a peculiar stridation, like the rasp of chitinous wings. Dumarest rose, the rifle in his hands, eyes narrowed as he searched the sky. He could see nothing but the glitter of distant stars, the band of the galactic lens a pale swath low on the horizon. There was no wind, the air like glass.