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  Ifness raised a finger toward Etzwane. 'Transform Rastipol into a sick ahulph."

  "No, no," cried Rastipol. "You have misjudged me. I meant no harm."

  Ifness gave a distant nod. "Guard your tongue; you allow it a dangerous freedom. " He signaled Etzwane. "Sail on."

  Etzwane worked the tiller and waved his hand toward the sail, while Ifness moved his dials. The boat lifted into the night sky, showing its keel to the firelight. The Ripchiks watched silently from below.

  During the night the boat drifted slowly south. Etzwane slept on one of the narrow berths; he was not aware whether or not Ifness did the same. In the morning, cold and cramped, he went out into the cockpit to find Ifness looking out over the gunwale. A mist concealed the land below, the boat floated alone between "gray mist and lavender sky.

  For an hour the two sat in dour silence, drinking tea. At last the three suns rolled high and the mist began to dissipate, swirling and drifting, revealing irregular districts of land and river. Below them, the Keba made a mighty swing to the west, where it was joined from the east by a tributary, the Shill. On the west bank three docks thrust out into the Keba, marking a settlement of fifty or sixty huts and a half-dozen larger structures. Ifness exclaimed in satisfaction. "Shillinsk at last! It exists in spite of Kreposkin! " He lowered the boat to the face of the water. Etzwane stepped the mast and hoisted the sail; the boat proceeded across the water to the docks. Ifness brought the boat up the water-steps; Etzwane jumped ashore with a line; Ifness followed more deliberately. Etzwane payed out the line; the boat drifted downstream and took a place among a dozen fishing smacks, not notably different from itself. Ifness and Etzwane turned toward Shillinsk Town,

  CHAPTER 4

  The cabins and sheds of Shillinsk were built from gray stone quarried from a nearby ledge and rough-laid between balks of driftwood. Directly behind the docks stood the Shillinsk Inn, a relatively imposing structure of three stories. Lavender suns' light glared on gray stone and black timber; the shadows, by some ocular accommodation, appeared green, the color of old water in a barrel.

  Shillinsk Town seemed quiet, only half alive. No sound could be heard except the lap of waves along the shore. Two women walked slowly along the riverside trail; they wore baggy black breeches, blouses of dark purple, head-kerchiefs of rich rust-orange. Three barges lay alongside the docks, one empty and two partially laden. Several barge-tenders were bound for the tavern; Ifness and Etzwane followed a few paces to the rear.

  The barge-tenders pushed through the driftwood doors, with Ifness and Etzwane behind them, into a common room considerably more comfortable than the rude exterior suggested. A fire of sea-coal blazed in a huge fireplace; the walls had been plastered, whitewashed, and decorated with festoons and rosettes of carved wood. A group of barge-tenders sat before the fire eating a stew of fish and reed root. To the side, half in the shadows, two men of the district sat hunched over their wooden mugs. Firelight molded their slab-sided faces; they spoke little and peered distrustfully sidewise, watching the barge-tenders. One displayed a black mustache bushy as a dust brush, the other wore both a chin beard and a two-inch copper nose ring. With fascination Etzwane saw him knock up the ring with the rim of his mug and drink. They wore the Sorukh costume: black breeches, loose shirts embroidered with fetish signs, and from their waists hung scimitars of the white metal ghisim, an alloy of silver, platinum, tin, and copper, forged and hardened by a secret process.

  Ifness and Etzwane settled at a table near the fire. The innkeeper, a man bald and flat-faced, with a deformed leg and a hard stare, hobbled over to learn their wants. Ifness spoke for lodging and the best meal available. The innkeeper announced that he could serve clam soup, herbs, and sweet beetles; grilled meat with water-greens, bread, blue-flower marmalade, and vervain tea: a meal which Ifness had not expected and which he pronounced satisfactory.

  "I must discuss my recompense," said the innkeeper. "What do you have to trade?"

  Ifness brought forth one of his glass jewels. "This."

  The innkeeper drew back and showed the palm of his hand in disdain. "What do you take me for? This is no more than coarse glass, a bauble for children."

  Indeed then," said Ifness. "What is its color?"

  "It is the color of old grass, verging toward river water."

  "Look. " Ifness closed the gem in his hand, then opened it. "What color now? ".

  "A clear crimson! "

  "And now? " Ifness exposed the gem to the warmth of the fire and it glinted green as an emerald. "Now- take it into the dark and tell me what you see."

  The innkeeper went off to a closet, and presently returned. "It shines blue and sends off rays of several colors."

  'The object is a starstone," said Ifness. "Such are occasionally taken from the center of meteorites. It is in fact too valuable to exchange for mere food and lodging, but we have nothing else."

  "It will suffice, or so I suppose," stated the landlord in a pompous voice. "How long does your barge remain at Shillinsk?"

  "Several days, until we conclude our business. We deal in exotic goods, and at this moment we require the neck bones of dead Roguskhoi, which have a medicinal efficacy."

  " 'Roguskhoi? What are they?"

  "You call them differently. I refer to the red, half-human warriors which have pillaged the Plain of Blue Flowers."

  "Ah! We call them the Tied Devils.' They are of value after all?"

  "I make no such assertions; I merely traffic in bones. Who would be the local dealer in such merchandise?"

  The innkeeper uttered a coarse bark of laughter, which he quickly stifled, and turned a look toward the two Sorukh, who had been attending the conversation.

  "In these parts," said the innkeeper, "bones are so common as to be worthless, and a man's life is at little greater price. Observe this leg, which my mother maimed to protect me from the slave-takers. They were then the Esche from the Murd Mountains across the Shill. Now the Esche are gone and Hulkas have come, and all is as before, or worse. Never turn your back to a Hulka, or you'll find a chain around your neck. Four from Shillinsk have been taken during this last year. Hulka or Red Devil-which is worse? Take your choice."

  The mustached Sorukh suddenly joined the talk. "The Red Devils are extinct, except for their bones, which as you know belong to us."

  "Precisely the case," declared the second Sorukh, the ring swinging against his lip as he spoke. "We know the therapeutic effect of Red Devil bones, and we intend to realize a fair profit."

  "All very well," said Ifness, "but why do you assert their extinction?"

  "The matter is common knowledge across the Plain."

  "And who accomplished this act?"

  The Sorukh tugged at his beard. "The Hulkas perhaps, or a band from over the Kuzi Kaza. It seems that magic was worked on both sides."

  The Hulkas lack magic," remarked the innkeeper. "They are ordinary slavers. The tribes beyond the Kuzi Kaza are ferocious, but I have never heard magic ascribed to them."

  The ring-nosed Sorukh made a sudden harsh gesture. "This is not germane. " He turned to Ifness. "Do you intend to buy our bones, or shall we take them elsewhere?"

  "I naturally want to inspect them," said Ifness. "Let us go look, then we can talk more to the point."

  The Sorukhs sat back in shock. "Here is absurdity taken to the point of offense. Do you think we carry merchandise on our backs like Tchark women? We are proud folk and resent an affront! "

  "I intended no offense," said Ifness. "I merely expressed a desire to see the merchandise. Where is it stored?"

  "Let us make a short matter' of the situation," said the Sorukh with the mustache. "The bones remain at the battlefield, or so I suppose. We will sell our interest for a modest trade, and then you can do what you wish with the bones."

  Ifness thought a moment. This procedure is scarcely to my advantage. What if the bones are of poor quality? Or impossible to transport? Either bring the bones here or conduct us to the bones, so that I may jud
ge their value."

  The Sorukhs became glum. Turning aside they muttered together. Ifness and Etzwane set upon the food served by the innkeeper. Etzwane, glancing toward the Sorukhs, said, They are only planning how best to murder us and take our wealth."

  Ifness nodded. They are also puzzled why we are not more concerned; they fear an unexpected trick. Still, they will never reject the bait."

  The Sorukhs reached a decision and watched through heavy-lidded eyes until Etzwane and Ifness had finished their meal, whereupon the Sorukhs moved to the adjoining table, bringing with them an organic waft. Ifness shifted position and regarded the two with his head thrown back. The Sorukh with the mustache essayed a friendly smile. "Matters can be arranged to our mutual benefit. You are prepared to inspect the bones and pay for them on the spot?"

  "Definitely not," said Ifness. "I will examine the bones and inform you if they are worth the transport here to Shillinsk."

  The Sorukh's smile lingered a second or two, then vanished. Ifness went on. "Can you provide transportation? A comfortable cart drawn by pacers?"

  The Sorukh with the ring in his nose gave a snort of disdain. "That is not possible," said the Sorukh with the mustache. "The Kuzi Kaza would break up the cart."

  "Very well then; we will require riding pacers."

  The Sorukhs drew back. They muttered together, the ring-nosed man surly and unwilling, the man with the mustache first urgent, then persuasive, then compelling-and finally he had his way. They returned to Ifness and Etzwane. "When will you be ready to depart? " asked the mustached man.

  "Tomorrow morning, as early as feasible."

  "At sunrise we will be ready. But a further important matter: you must pay a rent for the pacers."

  "Ridiculous on the face of it! " scoffed Ifness. "I am not even sure that the bones exist! And you expect me to pay out rent on what might be a wild-goose chase? By no means; I was not born yesterday."

  The ring-nosed Sorukh started to make an angry argument, but the mustached man held up his hand. "You will see the bones, and the pacer rent will be absorbed in the ultimate transaction."

  "That is more to the point," said Ifness. "Upon our return to Shillinsk we will arrange an inclusive price."

  "At sunrise we depart; be ready. " The two Sorukhs left the inn; Ifness sipped hot infusion from a wooden bowl.

  Etzwane demanded: "You plan to ride the plain on a pacer? Why not fly the boat? " Ifness raised his eyebrows. "Is the matter not self-evident? A boat in the middle of a dry plain is a conspicuous object. We would have no freedom of action; we could never leave the boat."

  "If we leave the boat at Shillinsk, we will never see it again," grumbled Etzwane. "These people are thieves, one and all."

  "I will make certain arrangements. " Ifness considered a moment, then crossed the room and spoke with the innkeeper. He returned and resumed his seat at the table. "The innkeeper declares that we might leave ten treasure chests aboard our boat without fear of molestation. He accepts full responsibility, and the risk is thereby reduced. " Ifness mused a moment or two upon the flames of the fire. "Nevertheless, I will arrange a warning device to discourage those pilferers who might escape his vigilance."

  Etzwane, who had no taste for an arduous ride across the Plain of Blue Flowers in company with the Sorukhs, said sourly, "Instead of a flying boat, you should have contrived a flying cart, or a pair of flying pacers."

  "Your concepts have merit," said Ifness benignly.

  For the repose of its patrons the inn provided boxes filled with straw in a row of small chambers on the second floor. Etzwane's cubicle commanded a view of the harbor. The straw, however, was not fresh; during the night it rustled with obscure activity, and the previous occupant had urinated in a corner of the room. At midnight Etzwane, aroused by a sound, went to look out the window. He observed furtive motion along the dock, near the area where the boat was moored. The starlight was too dim for precise vision, but Etzwane noticed a hobbling irregularity in the gait of the skulker. The man stepped into a dinghy and rowed quietly out to the boat. He shipped his oars, made fast the dinghy, and clambered aboard the boat, to be instantly surrounded, by tongues of blue flame, while sparks jumped from his hair to the rigging. The man danced across the deck and more by accident than design plunged overboard. A few moments later be feebly hauled himself into his dinghy and rowed back to the dock.

  At sunrise Etzwane arose from his straw and went to the first-floor washroom, where he found Ifness. Etzwane reported the events of the night, regarding which Ifness showed no great surprise. "I will see to the matter."

  For breakfast the innkeeper served only tea and bread. His limp was more pronounced than ever and he glowered spitefully toward Ifness as he banged the food down upon the table.

  Ifness said sternly, 'This is spartan fare; are you so exhausted from your foray that you cannot provide a suitable breakfast?"

  The innkeeper attempted a blustering retort, but Ifness cut him short. "Do you know why you are here now, instead of dancing to the music of blue sparks? Because I require a satisfactory breakfast. Need I say more?"

  "I have heard enough," muttered the innkeeper. He hobbled back into the kitchen, and presently brought forth a cauldron of stewed fish, a tray of oatcake and eel-jelly. "Will this appease your appetite? If not. I can furnish some good boiled ermink and a sack of cheese."

  "We have enough," said Ifness. "Remember, if on my return I find so much as a splinter of the boat disarranged, you shall dance again to the blue music."

  "You misinterpret my zeal," declared the innkeeper. "I rowed out to the boat because I thought I heard a suspicious noise."

  "The matter is at an end," said Ifness indifferently, "so long as now we understand each other."

  The two Sorukhs looked into the inn. "Are you ready to depart? The pacers are waiting."

  Etzwane and Ifness went out into the cool morning. Four pacers pulled nervously at their curbs, hooking and slashing with back-curved horns. Etzwane considered them of good stock, long-limbed and deep-chested. They were equipped with nomad steppe-saddles of chumpa leather, with pouches for food and a rack on which a tent, blanket, and night boots might be lashed. The Sorukhs refused to provide these articles for Ifness and Etzwane. Threats and persuasion had no effect, and Ifness was forced to part with another of his multicolored jewels before the requisite food and equipment were supplied.

  Before departure Ifness required the identities of the two Sorukhs. Both were of the Bellbird fetish in the Varsk clan; the mustached man was Gulshe; he of the ringed nose was Srenka. Ifness wrote the names in blue ink upon a strip of parchment. He added a set of marks in crimson and yellow, while the Sorukhs looked on uneasily. "Why do you do this? " challenged Srenka.

  "I take ordinary precautions," said Ifness. "I have left my Jewels in a secret place and now carry no valuables; search me if you care to do so. I have worked a curse upon your names, which I will lift in good time. Your plans to murder and rob us are unwise and had best be dismissed. " Gulshe and Srenka scowled at what was obviously an unpleasant turn of events. "Shall we be on our way? " suggested Ifness.

  The four mounted and set off across the Plain of Blue Flowers.

  The Keba, with its fringe of almacks, receded and at last was lost to sight. To all sides the plain rolled in great sweeps and swells out into the sunny lavender haze. Purple moss padded the soil; shrubs held aloft flowers which colored the plain a soft sea-blue in all directions. To the south appeared an almost imperceptible shadow of mountains.

  All day the four men rode, and at nightfall made camp in a shallow swale beside a trickle of dank water. They sat around the fire in an atmosphere of guarded cordiality. It developed that Gulshe himself had skirmished with a band of the Roguskhoi only two months previously. They came down out of the Orgai Mountains, not far from Shagfe, where the Hulka maintain a slave depot. The Red Devils had raided the slave depot twice before, killing men and carrying off the women, and Hozman Sore-throat, the agent, sought to p
rotect his property. He offered a half-pound of iron for each Red Devil hand we brought back. I and two dozen others went forth to gain wealth, but we achieved nothing. The Devils ignore arrows, and each is worth ten men in a close fight, and so we returned to Shagfe without trophies. I rode east to Shillinsk for the Varsk conclave, and saw nothing of the great battle in which the Red Devils were destroyed."

  Ifness asked in a voice of mild interest: "Am I to understand that the Hulka defeated the Red Devils? How is this possible, if each Devil is worth ten men?"

  Gulshe spat into the flames but made no reply. Srenka leaned forward to push a stick into the coals, the ring in his nose flickering with orange reflections. "It is said that magic weapons were used."

  "By the Hulka? Where would they get magic weapons?"

  "The warriors who destroyed the Red Devils were not Hulka."

  "Indeed. Who were they then?"

  "I know nothing of the matter; I was at Shillinsk."

  Ifness pursued the subject no further. Etzwane rose to his feet, and climbing to the top of the rise, looked around the horizon. He saw only darkness. He listened, but could hear no sound. The night was fine; there seemed no threat from chumpa or bad ahulphs. The two Sorukhs were another matter. The same thought had occurred to Ifness, who now went to kneel before the fire. He blew up a blaze, then holding his hands to either side, made the flames jump back and forth while the Sorukhs stared in amazement. "What are you doing? " asked Gulshe in awe.

  "A trifle of magic, for my protection. I laid a command upon the fire spirit to enter the liver of all who wish me harm and there abide."

  Srenka pulled at his nose ring. "Are you a true magician?"

  Ifness laughed. "Do you doubt it? Hold out your hand."

  Srenka cautiously extended his arm. Ifness pointed his finger and a crackling blue spark leapt to Srenka's hand. Srenka emitted a ridiculous falsetto squawk of astonishment and jerked back speechless. Gulshe sprang erect and hurriedly retreated from the fire.

  "That is nothing," said Ifness. "Only a trifle. You are still alive, are you not? So then, we will sleep securely, all of us, knowing that magic guards us from harm."