The Dark Design (19 page)

Having checked the situation, Burton walked back to his hut. On the way he passed the Ganopo chief, who was sitting before his hut and smoking one of the little briar pipes the grails offered once a year.

Burton squatted down by him.

“I am thinking, O chief, that tonight the raftspeople may be in for a big surprise.”

The chief removed his pipe and said, “What do you mean?”

“It is possible that the chief of the people on the north bank may be leading a raid upon the raftspeople. Have you heard anything about that?”

“Not a word. The great chief of the Shaawanwaaki does not confide in me. However, I would not be surprised if he and his warriors did not resent the injuries and the insults which we Ganopo, who are under his protection, have suffered from the eagle-noses.”

“If they did make this raid you suggest, when would they be likely to do it?”

“In the old days, when the Shaawanwaaki warred against the people on the south bank, they would cross The River just before dawn. The clouds are still thick then, and they could not be seen approaching. But soon after they had landed, the sun would come up and the clouds would burn away under its heat. Then the Shaawanwaaki could see to strike.”

“That is what I thought,” Burton said. “However, one thing troubles me. It is an easy matter to cross a river or even a small lake in the fog and find the other side. This is a small island which would be difficult to find in the clouds. It is true the rock tower is very high, but the raiders would be in the fog and could not see it.”

The chief tamped down the coals in his pipe, and he said, “That is no worry of mine.”

Burton said, “There is a ledge on the spire. It faces the north bank, but an outcropping of rock would prevent the raftspeople from seeing it. It would also prevent them from seeing a bonfire. A bonfire which anyone on The River north of the island might see even through the fog. Is that why some of the Ganopo have been busy all day carrying bamboo and pine up to this ledge?”

The chief grinned. “You have the curiosity of a wildcat and the eyes of a hawk. However, I promised the Shaawanwaaki chief not to say a word about this business.”

Burton stood up. “I understand. Many thanks for your hospitality, chief, whether or not I ever see you again.”

“If not in this world, perhaps in the next.”

It was difficult to get to sleep. After hours of tossing and turning, he was surprised to find himself being shaken awake by Monat. Burton freed himself of the Arcturan’s three fingers and thumb and got up. Monat, who also came from a planet with a twenty-four-hours’ rotation, had a biological chronometer in his head. Burton had depended upon him to wake the others at the right time.

They moved around, talking softly while they drank instant coffee. The crystals, a gift from the islanders, provided a boiling heat as they dissolved.

After going over their plan once more, they moved outside and relieved themselves. The hut was just high enough to be above the mists, enabling them to see a faint glow high up on the spire. The Shaawanwaaki, even though in fog, would be able to discern it as a dim glow. That would be all they needed.

Frigate and Burton were the only ones who had been wearing a full suit of cloths when the
Hadji II
had gone down. The others, however, had cloths given them by the Ganopo. Clad from head to foot in these, they walked down into the fog. Burton led, one hand in Alice’s, hers in Frigate’s, and so on down the line. Depending upon an unusual sense of direction, Burton led them to the water’s edge. Now they could see the glow of the torches in the fuzziness.

Burton took out his flint knife. Kazz had a club he’d fashioned from a stick of pine with a knife he’d borrowed from a Ganopo. Frigate’s knife had been given to the Neanderthal woman, Besst. The rest were unarmed.

Burton moved cautiously forward until he was at the edge of the raft. There was enough space between the torches ranged along the edge for him to crawl through unseen. He proceeded to do this until he was well out of range of the guards’ vision and hearing. He waited while, one by one, the others caught up.

“This is the easy part,” he said. “From now on we’ll be blind until we come across a torchlight. I have the location of the buildings and the boats in my head, but in this fog… well, follow me.”

Despite his assurances, he blundered around for a while. Then, abruptly, the huge black figure of the idol, a fire in its hollow belly, was in front of him. He stood for a minute, estimating the probable number of paces from the statue to the building which held the grails.

Kazz said, “I can just see some lights to the right.”

Keeping to the right of the torches, Burton led the others until he saw the square walls and conical roof of the storehouse. From the front of the building came the voices of the guards, speaking in low tones, stamping their feet now and then. After going behind the bulding, touching it with a finger to keep contact, Burton stopped on the other side.

Here he removed from under his cloths a coil of leather rope borrowed from the Ganopo chief, who had not asked him about its intended use. Monat and Frigate also carried coils. Burton tied their ends together to make a single rope. While Alice held one end, he moved out into the darkness with Frigate, Monat, Loghu, and Kazz. He knew that there was a boat-rack on the edge of the raft just opposite the storehouse. This time, he went straight to his target.

Cautioning them to move slowly and silently, he and the others eased a large canoe off the rack. It could hold ten people and so, though made of light pine and thin fish skin, was heavy.

After the canoe was in the water and paddles placed in it, all returned except Loghu. It was her job to keep the canoe from drifting away.

Following the rope, they went swiftly back to the storehouse.

Just as they returned, Kazz grunted, and said, “Others coming!”

The flames of four torches became visible.

“It’s a change of guards!” Burton said.

They had to move around to the other side of the building since the four armed men were headed toward them.

Burton looked upward. Was it his imagination or was the fog becoming less dark above?

They waited, some of them sweating despite the damp, cold air. The guards exchanged some words, somebody must have cracked a joke, judging by their laughter, then the relieved men said good night. The torches showed that two were going to homes in the forward part. The other two went in the opposite direction, causing a swift retreat by the invaders.

Burton, watching from the corner said, “Those two are separating, Kazz, do you think you could get one of them?”

“No sweat, Burton-
naq
,” Kazz said, and he was gone.

Both the torches were almost out of sight when Burton saw one of them drop. A minute later it lifted, becoming more bright as it approached them.

By then, Burton had moved the group from the side to the back of the building. He did not want a guard to walk past the front and see the torch.

Kazz had thrown his hood back. His big, blocklike teeth gleamed in the light of the flames. In one hand he held the heavy oak spear tipped with a long hornfish horn which he had taken from the guard. His belt held a chert knife set in a heavy wooden handle and a flint-headed axe. These he passed out to Frigate and Alice. His club went to the Arcturan.

“I hope you didn’t kill him,” Monat whispered.

“That depends on how thick his skull is,” Kazz said.

Monat grimaced. He had an almost pathological abhorrence of violence, though he could be an effective fighter in self-defense.

“Will your leg handicap you?” Burton said. “Think you can throw that axe as effectively as usual?”

“I think so,” Frigate said. He was shaking now, though he would be steady when the fighting started. Like the Arcturan, he dreaded physical conflict.

Burton told them what to do, then he led Kazz and Alice around one side toward the front. The others went around the opposite corner.

Burton peered around the corner. The four guards were standing close together, facing each other, and talking. A moment later, a torchlight appeared around the corner. The guards did not see it until it was close. As soon as Burton saw them turn toward it, calling a challenge, he moved out.

Kazz, his features shrouded by his hood, got near to them before he was required to stop. Probably, the guards thought that he was one of the relieved men, returned for some reason.

By the time the mistake was discovered, it was too late for them. Kazz grasped his spear just behind its head, and, using it as a quarterstaff, struck its butt against the side of a guard’s neck.

Burton, holding his knife in his left hand, chopped the edge of his right against the back of the neck of another man. He had no wish to kill, and he had ordered the bloodthirsty Kazz to avoid using the spearhead if he could do so.

Frigate’s axe whirled out of the grayness and caught a third in the chest. It was thrown not quite accurately enough, or perhaps Frigate was trying not to kill. In which case, his axe-throwing was superb. The blunt forefront, not the cutting edge, struck, and the man fell back, the wind knocked out of him. Before he could recover it, he was knocked out by Burton’s savage kick to the side of his head.

At the same time as the others, Monat struck, and the fourth crumpled from a blow on the head.

There was silence for a moment as they waited to find out if anyone had heard the fight. Then they picked up the torches from the deck, and Burton unbarred the door. The fallen were dragged inside, where Monat examined them.

“Very good. They’re all alive.”

“Some of them’ll be coming to soon,” Burton said. “Watch them, Kazz.”

He held a torch above the free-grail rack. “We’re beggars no longer.”

He hesitated. Should just seven grails be taken? Why not all thirty? The extras could be used to trade for wood and sails for the new boat to be built.

Honor Not Honors
was his motto, but this was a matter of recompense, not thievery.

He gave the order, and each took five grails. They put the wide handle of one grail over their head, letting it hang behind them by the neck and thrust each arm through the handles of two grails. Then they left the building, barred the door, and followed the leather cord to the canoe. The torches were left upon the deck outside the storehouse.

Loghu said, “Isn’t it about time the Indians attacked?”

“Past time, I would say,” Monat replied.

The canoe loaded, they paddled away. Their destination was the south bank, which they intended to follow upRiver until just before dawn. Burton was worried about the extra grails. If the local authorities saw them, they might seize them. Even if they didn’t, greedy individuals would try to steal them.

There was only one way to hide them. The extras were filled with water. Sections of leather line were cut, and one end of each was tied to a handle. The other end was tied to the upper part of the canoe framework through a hole punched in the skin.

The drag on the canoe was heavy, but fortunately they were very close to the bank. They stopped at a dock complex near a grailstone and tied the canoe to a piling under a dock.

They sat down under the stone and waited. Dawn and hundreds of citizens came. Burton’s group introduced itself and requested permission to use the stone. This was given gladly, since the south-bank locals were peaceful. In fact, they welcomed strangers, a source of news and gossip.

The fog burned away. Burton got on top of the stone and looked toward the spire. Its base was about 2.5 nautical miles distant, which, from his altitude, put the horizon 4 miles away. He could see the larger buildings and the idol but the flames he had expected to be rising from them were nonexistent. Perhaps the Shaawanwaaki had not set them afire. After all, they might have wanted to keep the raft intact until it could be taken to the shore and dismantled. Its logs were valuable.

Instead of pushing on that day, he decided that they would rest. That afternoon a Ganopo party landed, the chief among them. Burton questioned him.

The chief laughed. “Those Shaawanwaaki turtleheads completely missed the raft. They couldn’t see the fire, though how they could not, I don’t understand. Anyway, they paddled around for hours, and when the fog lifted they found that the current had taken them five stones below the island. What a bunch of bums!”

“Did the Babylonians say anything to you about their missing canoe? Not to mention the guards we had to rough up?”

Burton thought it best not to say anything about the grails.

The chief laughed again. “Yes, they came storming ashore before the stone flamed. They were very angry, though they did not say why. They knocked us around a little, but the bruises and the insults did not bother us because we were happy that you had made fools of them. They searched the island thoroughly, but they did not find you, of course. They did find the ashes of the fire and asked us about it. I told them that it was a ceremonial fire.

“They didn’t believe me. I think they must have guessed the truth. You won’t have to worry about them sending out search parties for you. Every one of them, including Metu
ael, is straining to get the raft off today. They must expect another attack tonight.”