VII
Sumu made a sign against evil. “Nine sticks of incense to the gods at Ratu Temple!” He swung on Dominic, who had been released and knelt shuddering. “Well?”
“Tuan!” Dominic flopped on his face. “Tuan, take all my cash!” he wailed. “I am a poor man and the humblest of your slaves. Give me back those valueless trinkets bequeathed me by my poor old mother!”
“Valueless, I think not.” Sumu mopped the sweat of excitement from his forehead. “We shall have a little truth out of you, storyteller.”
“Before the Three Headed One himself, you have the truth!”
“Come now,” said Sumu in his kindliest tone. “I am not cruel. I should not like to have you questioned. Especially since I would have to entrust the questioning to Pradjung, who seems to have taken a dislike to you.”
Pradjung licked his lips. “I know these stubborn cases, mighty master,” he said. “It may take me a while. But he will still be able to talk when he decides to. Come along, you!”
“Wait, wait, wait,” said Sumu. “Not that quickly. Give him a few swats of the cane across his feet and see if his tongue loosens. Every man deserves a chance to be heard, Pradjung.”
Dominic beat his brow against the floor. “It is a family secret, nothing but a family secret,” he begged. “Your nobleness could not profit by hearing it.”
“If that is so, rest assured I shall keep your secret inviolate,” promised Sumu magnanimously. “Anyone here who cannot keep a secret goes straight into the canal.”
Pradjung, who saw an opportunity slipping past, seized the bastinado and applied it. Dominic cried out. Sumu told Pradjung to stop, and offered Dominic wine.
Eventually the story came out.
“My brother George found the ship,” Dominic said between gulps for air and gulps of drink. His hands trembled. “He was a timber cruiser, and often went far into the mountains. In one deep, misty ravine, he found a spaceship.”
“A ship from the stars?” Sumu made violent signs and promised another dozen joss sticks. He had heard of the Betelgeuseans, of course, in a vague way, and even seen a few of their goods. But nonetheless he bore a childhood of myth about the Ancestors, the Stars, and the Monsters, which a sketchy education had not removed.
“Just so, tuan. I do not know if the vessel came from the Red Star, whence they say Biocontrol receives visitors on certain nights, or from some other. It might even have been from Mother Terra, for this shirt fits me. It must have crashed out of control long ago, long ago. Jungle had covered it, but could not destroy the metal. Wild animals laired within. Doubtless they had eaten the bones of the crew, but they could not open the hatches to the holds. Those were not locked, however, only dogged shut. So my brother George went down and saw wonders beyond reckoning—”
It took half an hour to elaborate on the wonders.
“Of course, he could not carry such things on his back,” said Dominic. “He took only these articles, for proof, and returned home. It was his thought that he and I should raise enough money somehow for vehicles to get the cargo out. How, I knew not, for we were poor. But surely we would never tell our overlord, who would take all the treasure for himself! Long we discussed the matter in secret. George never told me where the ship lay.” Dominic sighed. “He knew me well. I am not a resolute man. The secret was safest with him.”
“Well?” Sumu dithered in his chair. “Well? What happened?”
“Ah, what happens all too often to poor folk. I was a tenant farmer of Proprietor Kepuluk. George, as I told you, was a timber cruiser for the master’s lumbering operations. Because of our scheming to get money, we neglected our work. Frequently our overseers reproved us with a touch of the electrostick. But the dream we had would not let us rest in peace. George was at last dismissed. He brought his family to live with me. But my plot of ground was so small it would barely support my own wife and children. We went swiftly into debt to Proprietor Kepuluk. George had a young and beautiful wife, whom Kepuluk seized for the debt. Then George went amok and fell upon Kepuluk. It took six men to drag him away.”
“So Djordju is dead?” cried an appalled Sumu.
“No. He was sentenced to enslavement. Now he toils as a field hand on one of Kepuluk’s plantations. Of course, my farm was taken from me, and I must make my way as best I could. I found places for the women and children, then set out alone.”
“Why?” demanded Sumu.
“What was there for me in Pegunungan Gradjugang, except a lifetime’s toil for barely enough wages to buy my pills? I had always had a talent for storytelling, so I yarned my way to the ocean. There I got a scullery job on a watership bound for this continent. From Tandjung Port I came afoot to Kompong Timur. Here, I thought, I could make a living—even save a little money—and inquire with great discretion, until at last—”
“Yes? Yes? Speak up!”
Pradjung reached for the cane again, but Sumu waved him back. Dominic sighed heartbreakingly. “My tale is ended, tuan.”
“But your plan! What is it?”
“Ah, the gods hate me. It seemed easy enough, once. I would find a patron, a kind man who would not begrudge me a good payment and a position in his household, in exchange for what I could tell him. He must be rich, of course. Rich enough to buy George from Kepuluk and outfit an expedition under George’s guidance. Oh, my lord—” Dominic lifted streaming eyes—“do you perchance know of some wealthy man who would listen to my tale? If you could arrange it for me, I would reward you with half of what I was paid myself.”
“Be still,” commanded Sumu.
He lay back in his chair, thinking furiously. In the end: “Perhaps your luck has turned, Dominic. I have some small savings of my own, and am always ready to venture what I can afford in the hope of an honest profit.”
“Oh, my lord!”
“You need not kiss my feet yet. I have made no promises. But let us take our ease and share a midday meal. Afterward we can talk further.”
The talk stretched on. Sumu had learned caution. But Dominic had answers for all questions; “I have had two years now, largest of masters, to think this out.”
An expedition into the mountains would be costly. It should not be outfitted here in Kompong Timur. That would not only add the expense of transporting equipment across the ocean, but would attract far too much notice. (Sumu agreed. Some palace-dwelling sarwin like Nias Warouw would hear about it, investigate, and claim a major share of the loot.) Nor was it a good idea to use the primitive banking facilities of Unan Besar: too traceable. No, the cash itself must be smuggled out of town, across the lake and down the Ukong River to Tandjung, where Sumu’s trusty men would take it across the ocean in their baggage. Once arrived in Pegunungan Gradjugang, they would pose as entrepreneurs hoping to establish a hardwood trade with the Selatan Islands, a market which the local bigwigs had neglected. They would buy a few experienced slaves as assistants, who would just happen to include Djordju. Then in secret, Djordju would guide Sumu’s representatives to the ship.
The new hardwood company would buy some thousands of hectares from the immense Kepuluk holdings, and also acquire the flyers, junglecats, and similar machinery needed to exploit a forest. That would be expensive, but it couldn’t be helped; any other way, Kepuluk would smell a rat. But thereafter, under cover of their logging operations, the expedition could plunder the ship at leisure. Doubtless its cargo should be sold very gradually, over a period of years, so as to avoid undue attention and to keep up the price of such exotic stuffs.
“I see.” Sumu wiped curry from his chins, belched, and called for a girl to pick his teeth. “Yes. Good.”
“George is a very resolute man,” said Dominic. “His hope was always to lift our family out of tenantdom. He would die before telling anyone where the ship lies, unless I persuade him first.” Slyly: “If Proprietor Kepuluk does not remember his face, I alone could identify my dear brother among all the plantation slaves.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” snapped Sumu. “I am a fair man. Ask anyone if I am not fair. You and Djordju shall have proper shares in the loot. Enough to go into business, under my protection. But now, about the cost—”
That night Dominic stayed in the house of Sumu. He was, in fact, a guest for several days. His chamber was pleasant, though it lacked windows, and he had enough company, for it opened directly on a barrackroom where the bachelor daggermen lived. No one got past that room without a key to the automatic lock, which Dominic didn’t ask for. He messed with the daggermen, traded jokes, told them stories, and gambled. Cards on Unan Besar had changed faces, but were still essentially the same old pack of fifty-two. Dominic taught the boys a game called poker. They seized on it avidly, even though he won large amounts from them. Not that he cheated—that would have been fatal, under so many experienced eyes. He simply understood the game better. The daggermen accepted the fact, and were willing to pay for instruction. It would take many years to get back from neophytes elsewhere all that Dominic eventually won, but the Pulaoic mentality was patient.
Sumu shared that patience. He did not rush into Dominic’s project, but made inquiries. A thornfruit dealer was located who had bought occasional shipments originating on Proprietor Kepuluk’s holdings in Pegunungan Gradjugang. Hm, yes, they were mountaineers and forest dwellers there mostly, weren’t they? The climate made them pale-skinned, if that hadn’t simply been genetic drift. Sumu had no idea what genetic drift might be: the term impressed him enough that he didn’t stop to ask exactly how light a complexion was meant. He was shrewd, but no intellectual heavyweight. He was convinced.
The investment was considerable, a hundred thousand silvers to start with. Two men were needed to lift the chest holding it. Those were Pradjung and a butcher boy named Mandau, both tough and strong and utterly reliable—especially since Pradjung still spat at Dominic’s name. They would accompany the chest and the storyteller to Tandjung, where several others traveling by more open routes would meet them on the ship Sekaju.
About this time, when Dominic was again interviewed, he voiced a mild complaint at his detention and said he was due for his pill. Also, was it fitting that a loyal (however humble) servant of the famous Sumu went about in these dirty old clothes? Sumu shrugged and allowed Dominic to go, accompanied by a daggerman just in case. Dominic was in a happy mood. He spent a long time shopping for garments, while the daggerman yawned and sweated. Dominic made up for it by buying them both large quantities of wine. Afterward the luckless daggerman admitted he’d been too tired and drunk when Dominic went off to get his pill. He stayed in the tavern and never actually saw the storyteller go to the district dispensary. But Dominic soon came back to him and the fun resumed.
The next night had been set for departure. Dominic whiled the hours away with a new game. As the bravos came into the bunkroom for their naps, one by one during the course of the day, Dominic bet them he could make five pat five-card poker hands out of any twenty-five cards. He let his incredulous friends provide the pack, shuffle, and deal. Once or twice he lost, but the net sum he tucked away in several already fat purses was rather fantastic. Next day a bully who had once studied some arithmetic figured out that the odds in Dominic’s favor had been about fifty to one. By then Dominic was gone.
He left the house after sunset. Rain sluiced from a hidden sky, roaring on the canal surface and drowning distant lamps. A speedboat waited with Pradjung, Mandau, and the chest of silvers. Dominic kissed Sumu’s unclipped toenails and embarked. The boat slipped into darkness.
Several days previously, Dominic had proposed a route of his own as the least dangerous way out of town. Sumu had grinned and told him to stick to his storytelling. Dominic became so insistent that Sumu was forced to explain in detail precisely why a route down Burning Torch Canal and so out into the lake would attract less notice.
Now, when the boat planed close to the Bridge Where Amahai Wept, Dominic said a polite, “Excuse me.” He reached across the cockpit and switched off motor and headlights.
“What in all hells—!” Pradjung leaped to his feet. Dominic slid back the canopy. Rain cataracted hot and heavy upon them. The boat glided toward a halt.
Pradjung snatched for the revolver Sumu had lent him. Dominic, timid spinner of yarns, failed to cower as expected. The chopping motion of his hand was instantaneous. A hard edge smacked on Pradjung’s wrist. The gun clattered free.
The boat went slowly under the Bridge Where Amahai Wept. Someone leaped from the span. The deck thundered beneath that gorilla impact. Mandau snarled and tried to grapple. Kemul the mugger brushed his arms aside, put Mandau across one knee, broke his back, and threw him overboard.
Pradjung had drawn a knife. He stabbed underhanded at Dominic’s belly. But Dominic wasn’t there any more. He was a few centimeters to one side. His left wrist struck out, deflecting the blade. His right hand took Pradjung’s free arm and spun the daggerman around. They fell together, but Dominic had the choking hold. After a few seconds, Pradjung turned blue and lay quietly.
Dominic got off. Kemul picked up the bravo. “No, wait,” protested Dominic, “he’s still alive—” Kemul threw Pradjung into the canal. “Oh, well,” said Dominic and gunned the engine.
Headlights strengthened from behind, through the rain. “Kemul thinks Sumu had you followed,” said the mugger. “It would make sense. Now they want to catch up with us and find why your lights went out. Shall we fight?”
“Can you lift a chest with a hundred thousand silvers?” asked Captain Sir Dominic Flandry.
Kemul whistled. Then: “Yes, Kemul can carry it a ways.”
“Good. We needn’t fight.”
Flandry steered close to the left pier. As they went by a ladder, Kemul stepped off with the chest under one arm. Flandry revved the motor and went over the side. Treading water in the dark, he watched the second boat pursue his own out of sight.
Half an hour later, he stood in Luang’s quarters above the Tavern Called Swampman’s Ease and gestured at the open chest. “A hundred thousand,” he said grandly. “Plus a good bit extra I made gambling. And a firearm, which I understand is hard for commoners to come by.” It was thrust firmly into his own belt.
The girl lit a cigarette. “Well,” she said, “the usual black market price for a pill is two thousand.” She put a vial on the table. “Here are ten capsules. You have credit with me for forty more.”
The lamp in the hooded god’s hands threw soft coppery light across her. She wore a little paint on the amber skin, which was not her custom, luminous blue outlining eyes and breasts. There was a red blossom in her hair. For all its coolness, he thought her voice was not entirely level.
“When the boy brought us your note,” said Kemul, “it seemed foolishness to wait in ambush where you desired. Even though we were surprised to hear from you at all. When you first left us to win your fortune, Kemul thought you a dead man already.”
“You have more than common luck, I think.” Luang frowned at her cigarette, avoiding Flandry’s look. “In the past two or three days, there have been public announcements in the name of Nias Warouw. A reward is offered for you dead and a bigger one for you alive. The loudspeaker boats have not yet gotten as far as Sumu’s district. It’s plain to see, nobody who heard the criers had chanced to spy you, or knew you were with him. But he must soon have realized.”
“I made the swindle move as fast as possible,” Flandry said. The air was so hot and damp that he hoped they wouldn’t notice the sweat on him was suddenly rather cold. “I’m an experienced con man. It’s half my profession, one way or another. To be sure, I was a bit nervous about pulling a Spanish Prisoner here. You must have some home-grown version. But with refinements—” He broke off. They didn’t follow his words, full of Anglic phrases as was necessary. “What do I owe you for my shirt and watch and wallet? It was good of you to give them back to me for a stake.”
“Nothing,” said Kemul. “They were useless to us, as Luang explained.”
The girl bit her lip. “I hated for you to go out like that—all alone—” She put the cigarette to her mouth and inhaled so hard that her cheeks filled with shadow. Abruptly and roughly: “You are very clever, Terra man. I never had allies, except Kemul. They always betray you. But I think you could be a profitable associate.”
“Thanks,” said Flandry.
“One question yet. I forgot to ask you before. You knew Biocontrol makes all the antitoxin. What gave you the idea you could get any from us?”
Flandry yawned. He felt tired after all the strain and watchfulness. It was good to lounge back on the bed and look up at Luang, where she paced back and forth. “I felt confident someone would have some extras for sale,” he answered. “Human cussedness is bound to find ways, when anything as valuable as this drug is to be had. For instance, armed raids on dispensaries, by masked men. Or the hijacking of shipments. Not often, I suppose, but it must happen occasionally. Or . . . well, there must be hunters, sailors, prospectors, and so on . . . men who have legitimate reasons for not coming near a dispensary every thirty days, and are allowed an advance supply of antitoxin. Once in a while they will be murdered, or robbed, or will die naturally and be stripped. Or simple corruption: a local dispenser juggles his records and peddles a few extra pills. Or he is bribed or blackmailed into doing it.”
Luang nodded. “Yes,” she said, “you are wise in such matters.” With a sudden, odd defiance: “I get some capsules myself, now and then, from a certain dispenser. He is a young man.”
Flandry chuckled. “I’m sure he gets more than value in return.”
She stubbed out her cigarette with a savage gesture. Kemul rose, stretching. “Time for Kemul’s nap,” he said. “Around sunrise we can talk of what’s to be done. The Captain is wily, Luang, but Kemul thinks best he be gotten out of Kompong Timur and used elsewhere for a time. Till Warouw and Sumu forget him.”
Her nod was curt. “Yes. We will talk about it tomorrow.”
“Good rest, Luang,” said Kemul. “Are you coming, Captain? Kemul has an extra bed.”
“Good rest, Kemul,” said Luang.
The giant stared at her.
“Good rest,” she repeated.
Kemul turned to the door. Flandry couldn’t see his face; not that Flandry particularly cared to, just then. “Good rest,” said Kemul, barely audible, and went out.
Someone laughed like a raucous bird, down in the joyhouse. But the rain was louder, filling all the night with a dark rushing. Luang did not smile at Flandry. Her mouth held a bitterness he did not quite understand, and she switched off the light as if it were an enemy.