CHAPTER SIX
As we already had our gear, there was nothing more to be done than to move our feet. Everybody snatched up some luggage and we headed off quickly. Zeno called out as we walked away, the militia still holding him at bay. “Jaf!” I paused, turned back. “This isn’t the end. Next time you see me you’ll be looking at the messenger of your doom and your destruction.” More than his words it was the calm way he said them that gave me a small shiver.
“What about Zeno?” I wondered to the mayor of Chugtallis as we moved away. “You aren’t going to hurt him, are you?” I asked, hoping she’d point out Zeno was dangerous and should be eliminated.
“Nah. His craft is disabled, something ‘broke’ while it was parked there, and we’re so backward in Chugtallis that it might take us quite some time to get it fixed. Same reason his radio won’t work over here, on this side of the mountains, so he’s stuck for awhile.” Then she turned to Wanliet and asked, “Mr. Inspector General, I’m not sure how to address you, but I do need for you to tell me something. Where do you want to go now?”
Somewhat timidly, “Well, back to our ship, I guess. We’ve got some things to check, to retrieve, I believe.”
“Don’t see any reason not to help you. You understand that once An-Tuin talks to Solip City they’ll be after you, and the ship is likely the first place they look. So you’d best hurry. We’ll give you some horses – I don’t know where the ship is, but from the story I heard I reckon it’s about a day’s walk past Caliuga City, so you’d best head on back there with Mayor Rekaburb, spend the night there, and leave the next day. After that, well, the less I know about your plans, the better.”
Lordano, or the Gurjoo, spoke up then. “With them I shall be travelling, too, mayor.” Rekaburb looked like he’d die of joy right there. Heaven was lining things up just so, his Gurjoo and the Inspector General travelling together – how could the IG fail to fall under the Gurjoo’s spell, and begin the spread of – Gurjooism, or whatever it was called – across the universe? Rekaburb was already composing future scripture in his head, I could tell – ‘Present at the Beginning,’ or the ‘Gospel of Saint Erah,’ or some such stuff. Doing well by doing good, yup, I could see he had his career path staked out already.
“Okay, Mayor, Gurjoo, do you need more pack animals?” Her Honor asked.
“A couple. And we’d best have horses for that, too, we’ll travel faster that way. Unless you have llamas?” asked Rekaburb.
“Nope, no llamas. Sure about the horses? Two mules can handle it all, and they’re less likely to do something dumb, ya know.”
“Thank you, your honor, I know that, but I think the speed of a horse is essential right now.”
Chugtallis’ mayor shrugged and left us to make arrangements. It’s funny, how with titles you can spend time with people and never learn their names, never see beyond their official uniforms and masks. She was the Mayor of Chugtallis, and to her Wanliet was the Inspector General, and that was that, unless the Planetary Union Chief of Security revealed that Wanliet wasn’t really an IG. The IG’s adjutant (that would be me) couldn’t think what An-Tuin would gain from that. But still and all I never learned the mayor’s name, a shame, as I’d really taken a shine to the woman.
Soon enough we were trotting up north to Caliuga City. Besides luggage we had water and I’d made sure we had enough food. I figure if you have it you won’t need it, but if you need it and don’t have it, you’ll be very, very sorry. That was another reason we’d had so many pack animals back on Mobahey. I try to pick my risks carefully.
Our way wasn’t direct. Between Chugtallis and Caliuga lay some swampy land, estuaries of two sizable rivers that met at the sea. Our course was to double back toward the mountains and travel through the hills at their foot. I’ve never been keen on swampy areas, so this pleased me. When a place is neither land nor water you tend to get the worst of the two, fish-types that climb up and bite you, lizard-kind that swim and bite you, bird-like beasts that swoop down and bite you, and mammal-sorts that can swim, jump, soar, and run. And bite you. Not to forget the leaping flying crawling insect things that bite you, too. I’ve always found it odd that, for all the food in a swamp, every critter there seems to be fasting, awaiting my arrival to chow down.
Up in the foothills away from the swamp the air was clear and brisk, the views glorious, and I felt happy and free looking out and down on the hazy coastline below. Because there was commerce between Caliuga City and Chugtallis there was a trail, wide enough to be clear, but I wondered who created it in the first place. “Mayor Rekaburb, this is a nice trail. Does it go by the ranch that the Planetary Union rented, south of your city?”
“Yes, adjutant, it does. I believe you’ve already travelled that last part of the trail with my daughter Sirah, a couple of weeks ago.” And what a couple of weeks it had been!
“This region seems to be well-established, mayor. Are there still any animals we should be careful of? Every ecosystem has predators, in all sizes and shapes. If you spent the night out here, what would you be worried about?”
“Adjutant, I wouldn’t spend the night out here. This area might look safe enough, but that’s because you don’t know what to look for. I’ve spotted droppings and tracks from animals I wouldn’t care to meet with, such as smeerps, although this is a bit far north, or a little high up for them. They usually keep to warmer places, but I guess the marsh draws them. During the day, in a group, we’ll be fine, but I don’t want to tarry after dark enjoying the view as the sun sets.”
“I was wondering, mayor, about the smeerps. They sound like they’re large, vicious beasts, but their name makes them sound like little bunnies. How did that happen?”
“The noise they make. You expect a great roar, but instead their jaws open and out comes ‘smeerp.’ If it weren’t so terrifying it would be comical.”
“So, ‘smeerp’ is the last sound some hear, then? What a way to go.”
“Next-to-last, more like. First, ‘smeerp,’ then screams of their own panic and agony. Smeerps kill, but not quickly.”
Hmmm – more graphic than I’d really wanted.
For lunch we settled down at a beautiful clearing by a shady pool of water that burbled over stones at either end. Each of us picked out a boulder or log to settle on, making sure to keep in sight of the group, except for brief personal excursions. Thanks to my foresight, there was plenty to eat, and afterwards by silent vote we elected to snooze a bit.
It was the kicking that awakened me. Rekaburb’s warnings made my pulse immediately rocket, dreading that ‘smeerp’ just before confronting the catching claws and biting jaws. Then I looked up and saw the business end of a revolver aimed at my chest, and as my eyes focused I took in the raised hammer at the far end of the barrel. My gaze continued up an arm, to a shoulder, to a face. This was no dream.
Sirah?! My beloved Sirah?