Voyage to the City of the Dead

  "No reason for them to cover ground." Etienne squinted into the growing darkness, an occasional snowflake tickling his skin. "Probably they've picked a comfortable spot to relax and reminisce about their attack on Jakaie. If they have that much sense, that is. We should come up on them soon, then?"

  "Yes, soon." Yulour straightened. "Then what we do?"

  "I'm not sure. Depends on how they set their camp."

  They saw the glow from the earth before Yulour caught the scent of the tribe. The fire itself wasn't visible because it lay in a depression. Heeding Etienne's request for silence, Yulour followed the Teacher as they crept up the side of the low ridge and found themselves looking down into a small crater in the rocks. It was deep and offered excellent pro­tection against the wind. On the far side, stone overhung part of the depression, and the alcove was packed with sleepy, sated Na. Only a few of the primitives were moving, mostly to tend to the roaring fire. The odor from the burning chips was strong.

  For the first time Etienne saw Na females, along with two‑meter‑tall cubs. Unlike the children of most species, the offspring of the Na were not cute. They moved nervously in their sleep, their bare feet kicking toward the warmth of the fire.

  Vegetation was unusually abundant in the depression, not only due to the presence of nutrients unintentionally supplied by Na but also because the hollow served as a watertrap. The pool lay directly below Etienne, the fire on the far side. A large pile of dried animal dung helped to reflect as well as freshen the blaze.

  Yulour pointed and whispered with childlike excitement. "Look there, Teacher, look there

  Etienne's gaze traveled to the right of the fire. Stone and bone had been heaped together to create a crude kitchen. Attached to a long bone suspended over a smoking fire was a shape that he didn't immediately recognize. It took him a moment to see that it was a dead Tsla shorn of its fur. He glanced sideways at his companion. There was no fury, no hatred in the porter's face.

  "It doesn't bother you?"

  "What bother me, Teacher?"

  Etienne gestured toward the firepit. "They're cooking one of your own kind down there."

  "Everyone must eat," Yulour said ingenuously.

  Etienne turned away. Obviously a great deal more re­search would have to be performed before they could fully understand the Tsla.

  Of more immediate interest was the cage that rested against the far right‑hand base of the depression. It was made of the curving rib bones of some big creature, lashed together with cured sinew. Four‑no, five‑Tsla were clustered together within. Along with one figure clad in bright blue. His pulse raced, threatening to set his fingers trembling.

  Lyra was alive and apparently intact, from what he could see. The collar of her shirt was buttoned all the way up over her neck and her long hair was wrapped around her face. The Na had left their carrying sacks in with the prey, and Lyra lay beneath one for further protection from the cold.

  A single young male squatted sleepily in front of the cage, idly tossing pebbles into the fire and ignoring his charges.

  "Soon he may steep, Teacher," Yulour said of the guard.

  "He'd better." Etienne checked to make sure both pistols were readily accessible, along with the supplementary breathers. Then he backed carefully down the slope and circled the depression.

  When they climbed up again they topped the rise directly behind the cage. Then they waited.

  It was well after midnight when Etienne stirred himself for another look down into the hollow. Tslamaina's moons were masked by cloud and most of the light in the depression came from the central bonfire. He watched the motionless guard for another half hour before he could be certain the Na was asleep.

  "What must I do, Teacher?" asked Yulour.

  "Just stay here and keep quiet, and wait for us."

  "Be careful, Teacher.°"

  "I will, Yulour."

  "I will come down if thee need me," he added anxiously as Etienne slid on his belly over the top.

  "I know you will. You're a good friend, Yulour."

  "I thank thee, Teacher," whispered the porter, over­whelmed by the compliment.

  Etienne half‑slid, half‑crawled down the incline. The tribe dozed like the dead beneath the rocky overhang. He checked his wrist. It was twelve degrees below freezing. He was quite comfortable but he worried about Lyra. If the temperature fell much further she would have difficulty walking until he could get her into her own thermal suit, which was stuffed into Yulour's copious backpack.

  He reached for a purchase only to see the rock tumble down the slope. It came to rest against the back of the cage. The guard did not stir. Etienne followed the stone as rapidly as practicable, assuming a kneeling position behind the cage.

  "Lyra," he whispered intently, shifting his gaze from her to the guard and back again. Bodies stirred within the cave but no one rose from steep.

  "Lyre!" Her head jerked around in the darkness and she shoved her hair aside.

  "Etienne?"

  "Who the hell else would it be?" He pulled one of the pistols and carefully adjusted the setting after quickly in­specting the lashings holding the cage together. "I'm going to try and burn through the material holding these bones. Be ready, for God's sake!"

  He started working, the pistol's faint hum absorbed by the wind overhead and the crackle of the central fire. Lyre moved quietly to wake her fellow prisoners. They had enough presence of mind to keep quiet, save for one who whispered in surprise, "It is the mate of the stranger who is with us!" Lyre shushed him.

  "Here, as Etienne cuts these loose, take them up and lay them somewhere aside." The Tsla moved silently to comply.

  He smiled to himself. Fatalistic in philosophy the Tsla might be, but clearly that didn't extend to sitting dumbly by if the chance of escape presented itself.

  "Etienne, what the devil are you doing here?"

  "Saving fair maiden from an incipient barbeque." Another lashing split and he started on the bonds above it. One of the Tsla males gripped the base of the loosened section to prevent its falling.

  Lyre sat clear of the humming pistol, shook her head. "Somehow I never thought you capable of the heroic gesture, Etienne."

  "Lyre, shut up. I'm busy." Another series of sinews gave way and he started on those holding a second bar as the Tsla carefully removed the first.

  The second bone popped clear easily and again the Tsla moved it aside. Lyre was first out and Etienne caught her as she stumbled. Her muscles were numb from cold and confinement.

  For an instant he thought she might have suffered some unseen injury. She quickly dispelled that concern.

  "I'm in one piece, though I thought I'd suffocate in that damn stuffsack." The Tsla were filing out wordlessly behind her, looking around in bewilderment. "We're up on the Gun­tali, aren't we? The sack was opaque, so I couldn't get any bearings." He nodded. "No wonder I'm so cold."

  "Fill me in on the details later," he advised her, looking anxiously past her toward the dozing guard.

  "We axe grateful," said the senior Tsla among the cap­tives.

  "Be grateful when we're safely back in Jakaie," Etienne admonished him. "Follow me and stay low." He started up the slope on his belly, glancing back once to make sure Lyra was on his heels. "You need any help?"

  "No. It just feels good to be moving again."

  As soon as they dropped over the dark side of the depres­sion he extracted her thermal suit from the supplies. She was so cold it took hex three times as long as normal to climb inside.

  "I am gladdened to see thee, Teacher. We feared for thee."

  She looked at Yulour in mild surprise, peering past him to see the others who had come with her husband. Her disappointment in the darkness was evident.

  "Etienne, you wouldn't believe the habits of these Na. Their cruelty isn't studied, of course. It's simply their way. But their victims suffer needlessly. As a matter of fact I'd have to say that based on preliminary studies which admit­tedly were not carried ou
t under the best of conditions, they have no redeeming social characteristics whatsoever."

  "You'll think of some as soon as you get warmed up. You'll end up with a balanced report. You always do."

  "Maybe, but I don't feel I'm in a very balanced mood right now."

  Where the last of the Tsla captives reached bottom Etienne addressed them hastily. "As you know, I am Learned One Lyre's mate. We're going back to Jakaie. Stay together and no talking unless it's absolutely necessary. We have to travel as rapidly as possible. If anyone gets lost or falls behind for any reason..."

  "We know what we must do," said the senior Tsla. "But we do not know the way back to our home."

  "We do, so stay close by us." Holding Lyre's hand tightly in his own he turned to follow Yulour. The rest of the Tsla trailed behind in perfect silence.

  Chapter Fourteen

  They shambled on through the cold and wind all the rest of that night, following Etienne's lead. He glanced constantly at the instrumentation on his wrists, but was glad he could rely on Yulour's sense of smell for confirmation of their course. The rising sun was welcomed not only for the warmth it provided but as a further aid to direction. Aracunga was a more reliable beacon than any readout on a tiny screen.

  They were well down the trail toward home when a boul­der the size of a small house fell past them in awesome silence, to pulverize a basaltic outcrop below. It missed Etienne and Lyra by a few meters.

  Instinctively he pressed his back against the cliff. "Land­slide," he muttered.

  Yulour made a quick, sharp gesture of disagreement, looked upward. "Na slide."

  A glance toward the Guntali showed a single enormous hirsute shape leaping over the edge, gesticulating angrily and stomping the ground. The mouth made sounds that were swallowed by the wind. Then the figure vanished.

  "Coming after us," Etienne commented with unexpected calm. "I'd hoped they wouldn't. I wonder how many of them there are." He pulled on Lyra's hand. "Can you run?"

  She clutched her pistol firmly, nodded.

  "Remember now, hon, we don't want to harm any more of the native population than is absolutely necessary," he said dryly.

  "Pardon my lack of objectivity. The rotten cannibalistic bastards."

  "No time for gory details, love."

  Trying to make as much speed as possible, they raced down the pathway. No more small mountains crashed down around them, but by the time they reached the base of the cliff they could hear bellows and roars behind them.

  Twists and toms in the descending trail made it impossible to fell exactly how near their pursuers were. Voices could carry a long way in the clear mountain air. Then they broke out of the tales at the base of the cliff and found themselves running along a well‑beaten road.

  The Tsla who'd, joined Lyra ire escaping shouted warnings to the farmers who toiled in the fields. Tools were flung aside, seedlings left in pans as everyone ran for the safety of Jakaie.

  Yulour poi a hand on Etienne's shoulder, bade him tom as he pointed with the other. "There, 'feather!"

  Etienne saw, no raiding party this time, but the entire tribe stumbling down the cliff face in pursuit. Females and awkward adolescents brought up the rear. Evidently the res­cue was an outrage sufficient to infuriate the Na beyond reason.

  They ran slowly but with ground‑easing strides. Out in front and much too close behind were males hefting clubs bigger than a man.

  "Come on, move it!" he shouted at the farmers who had begun to lag behind.

  "We'll make ii with plenty of time, Etienne." As Lyra spoke her right foot located the only hole in the road and she went down in a heap, immediately rolling over on her back to clutch her ankle. Pain replaced confidence on her face as she cursed her clumsiness.

  "Not broken," she was finally able to gasp out.

  "I know that, stupid," he said as felt gingerly of the already swelling knot. He looked past her. He couldn't tell if the Na had seen her go down. The farmers and escapees were nearing the town wall now.

  "Hurry, Teacher," Yulour implored him. "There's little time."

  "Get up, Lyra," Etienne ordered her. She threw him a look of anger mixed with determination. Using his shoulder and an arm for support, she struggled to her feet. They limped toward Jakaie. The agony in her ankle started her crying silently, but she didn't stop.

  Etienne did so, however. "Too slow. We'll never make it." He bent under her and her pain gave way to startled surprise.

  "Etienne!" She was across his shoulders. "Put me down! You'll end up killing both of us."

  "Lyra, you talk too much." She bounced awkwardly on his shoulders as he ran. There was no pain, but the consid­erable weight soon had him panting heavily. Without the supplementary breather's steady flow of pure oxygen he couldn't have done it.

  "Teacher, can I help thee?" Yulour waddled alongside them. Something went whomp! against the earth off to their left, smashing a small bush to kindling. The Na club was much larger than the unlucky shrub.

  Etienne wanted to look back to see how close their pur­suers were but he couldn't spare the wind. The city gate was very near now, the repaired entrance gaping invitingly. This time armed Tsla waited on the walls, waving and shouting to urge him on. Encouragement was one thing he didn't need. Already his legs felt like lead determined to sink toward the center of the planet and Lyra, lovely sweet Lyra... if only she were a little less voluptuous.

  Something struck the small of his back and he almost went down. But he staggered, regained his balance and ran on. A dull flame began to bum just above his coccyx as waiting hands reached out to relieve him of his burden.

  They set Lyra down alongside him as he sucked at the last of the breather's air, breathing like a man who'd just finished a long underwater swim. Shouts and yells penetrated his exhaustion.

  "I'm too tired to sit up," he wheezed. "What's happen­ing?"

  "Don't ask me. I'm the one with the sprained ankle, re­member?"

  "Pity you couldn't have sprained your mouth."

  "Be of good cheer, Teacher," said the solicitous Yulour. "I will find out." He moved toward the gate.

  Long moments passed with Lyra massaging her ankle and Etienne slowly regaining his strength.

  "That was a dumb thing to do," she finally told him. "You could have gotten a hernia."

  "Excuse me," he said between gasps. "Next time I'll drop you."

  "Next time I shoot myself before I let them take me.°" She saw the expression on his face and looked away. "So it's bad xenology. I can't help it. I have feelings too. What on earth made you try something like that, anyway?" When he didn't reply she pushed at his shoulder. "Roll over. I want to see your back. I saw the tail end of that club hit you."

  With an effort he turned onto his side. Her fingers moved across his waist, making him wince.

  "Could have busted your spine," she murmured gently. "You've got a hell of a bruise."

  "I can tell. Where's Yulour?"

  She looked toward the gate. "I don't see him, but so far it looks good. There's still a lot of yelling and screaming on the walls, but the new gate looks much stronger than the old one." Her eyes returned to him. "You're an idiot, Etienne. You saved my life."

  "That was the idea."

  "Why?"

  He slowly rolled back, stared blankly at the sky. "Damned if I know." His face contorted as the fire in his back spread to new nerves.

  "It never ceases to amaze me, Etienne, how often you can do the right thing and then say just the opposite. Stay there. I'll get something from the boat." She started to rise, flopped back heavily. "I forgot. I can't walk."

  "What a sensible, always alert pair we make," he mur­mured. "If only our sponsors could see us now." He would have laughed if he hadn't been so tired.

  "Thank you for saving my life, Etienne, whatever your motives."

  "Anytime. Don't mention it. Do you think you can help me sit up?"

  "Be careful," she warned him.

  Several faces were suddenly
staring down at them. Ono was familiar.

  "Hello, Tyl." Etienne clasped his knees toward his chest, trying to alleviate some of the pain in his back. The nerves thorn argued with every millimeter of effort.

  Tyl executed a most profound sideways Tsla bow. "We did not expect thee to return, Learned Etienne. Thee were in the right and we in the wrong, and most grateful am I to be proven so. It was a grand thing thee did. Songs will commemorate thy deed. And this one's, whose service is unprecedented." He indicated Yulour, standing in front of the crowd.

  "I don't understand, Teacher," Yulour said.

  "Dear, sweat, brave Yulour," Lyra murmured. "I know thy customs and why thy kinfolk did not come, but why did thee?"

  "It seemed a good thing to do, so I did it." He looked embarrassed.

  "I'll make it up to you," she told him.

  "Make . . . up to me? I do not understand."

  "I know you don't. Do you understand what I mean when I say that Etienne and I thank thee very deep?"

  "Thos are welcome," the porter replied gravely. "Now I must go and find my friends."

  Tyl watched him go. "A peculiar soul, but many‑times blessed, l think."

  "He certainly has our blessings," said Lyra. She looked toward the wall. The shouting had ceased and the Tsla wore leaving the top of the palisade, chatting easily among them­selves.

  "It seems the Na have given up and gone away. Do you think they might attack again?"

  "They vented evil gestures and many shouts," Tyl in­formed them, "but I think they will not come back for some time. They are not animals and know they cannot break into Jakaie without first surprising its people. This time there was no surprise, so they have gone."

  "So we're safe?" Etienne mumbled.

  "Yes, all are safe now. Jakaie owes thee a debt for the dead‑thee have restored to them alive."

  Etienne's back improved slowly under Lyra's ministering hands. The worst of it was the body wrap she made him wear. It enveloped him from beneath the armpits to below his waist and he walked like a recently resurrected mummy.

  Among the prosaic Tsla the novelty of the rescue quickly wore off and they returned to their daily chores. But there were frequent, shy visits from those he'd saved and from their relatives and friends to thank him.