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Nalgar, the tall, ox-like beer-quaffer Erloch Spurgo had got to know in the bar of the Royal Guard, had travelled with the living doll from the pirate's room to the taxi station in downtown Kellagad and on to Gart. 'You can stay here and wait if you like,' the silicone damsel said to Nalgar when the pilot put them down on a commercial landing field in that dead-and-alive hole and turned his motor off. There was a coffee place beside the stretch of road that accommodated incoming and outgoing flights. 'No,' said Nalgar. 'I'm sticking tight. I can't afford to take the chance of losing you. If you are behind a door I want to know which door.' Doors presented no problem to Nalgar. 'All right,' said the doll, 'but you will have to keep well back.' Nalgar grinned and nodded. She then had a word with the cab driver. 'Sure, I'll wait,' he said, then pulled out his Screenak and started to read his newly-downloaded Daily Shout. Nalgar liked it when he had a paying job to do that only required him to keep one thing in mind at a time. Erl had told him to keep close to Mitzi. If he let her out of his sight, he had to know where she had gone so she could call him if necessary on the alarm he carried in his pocket. Like that, everything was simple. She would be going into Hertig's house in Gart, and if a call came, Nalgar would break the door down and get her. Simple. That was the sort of work Nalgar liked. So he followed the silicone doll at a distance of twenty paces or so. She glided more smoothly than a real woman would, at least any woman Nalgar had had any truck with. When you were close up to this Mitzi it really was easy to forget that you were dealing with something that was clipped together and stuffed with wires and circuits. It was a shame that toys like Mitzi were only for the rich. Through the streets of Gart she went, past towers full of rooming units, past squat hovels, convenience stores, barbershops, and bars, over a yellow river choked with plastic and metal which were too low-grade to be worth harvesting. Even the inhabitants of Gart could find nothing there. Hertig's place was on a hill that accommodated four or five detached homes. These were modest enough, but much better than the other dwellings they had seen. 'Wait here,' said the satiny piece of hardware. Nalgar found a spot where he could sit behind the capacious base of the statue of some ancient councillor from the days of Gart's prosperity. Mitzi went to the door and knocked. Nalgar saw the culprit open up, sweaty-faced and keen, and far too preoccupied to check if there was anybody else on the street . This was like a law and order job, thought Nalgar. He was there to do what he could to see that justice and property rights were served. And the fact that Erloch Spurgo was subsidising a trip on a smooth flyer to Gart and back and in addition paying a hefty fee, well, that was all for the good. Of course, Nalgar had nothing against Hertig personally. He knew him as an amiable swindler or entrepreneur, not bad-looking, not good-looking. A bloke who had been treated like a prince by that piratical Spurgo, and then intended to pay back his kind-heartedness with something else. When Spurgo had explained what had been going on behind his back, even after the doll had given the jerk every warning, well, Nalgar had agreed that he would go along with the satin doll when she went to perform a trick or two in her repertoire and show the friend of Erloch what was what. Though Spurgo was sure that his pretty chattel would handle everything, he had got Nalgar to escort her just in case after twenty minutes or so she had not come out. In that case, the door would have to be kicked in, the doll recovered, and Mr Kalat Hertig incapacitated or killed. 'Are you waiting for that Mr Hertig fella?' Nalgar swung round with his hand on the hilt of his knife. There before him was a bedraggled urchin of about twelve. 'Might be,' said Nalgar. 'He's new here, and he must be rich,' said the lad, and a crafty look passed over his face. 'He's new and he's got nothing to do with Gart, he brings his moneybags with him to pay his scoff. He might not realize how many people there are around here that it's not nice to know. You get me?' 'So, you think I'm a friend of Mr Hertig's?' 'If you were you would have gone into the house with the lady. To chat with him. Or so I reckon.' 'And might you be helpful to me if I was not so much a friend but somebody interested in Mr Hertig's moneybags?' 'I could probably tell you a few things, yeah,' said the boy. 'If the pay is right, of course.' 'Of course.' Before Nalgar could get any useful information about the doings of Kalat Hertig in Gart though, there was a shriek from inside the house, the shriek of a man. Nalgar and the lad raced towards the door, but before they reached it, it flew open. Hertig staggered out, hunched over and walking with difficulty. There was blood all over the front of his trousers. He was gripping and squeezing at his crotch area and his mouth opened and closed like that of a landed trout. Nalgar liked it when the punishment fitted the crime, and he laughed.
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'Hey-ho the green holly, this life is most jolly,' Venner said to Julian that morning. Each of them got a bowl of soup and a hunk of bread then sat in among the roots of a tree. 'Jolly good show, Baas,' said the Hottentot. 'I wouldn't hate it if I never saw Hilldorp again.' They had barely finished their food when they heard a horn, then shouting and the clattering of steel on steel from the other side of the outlaws' camp. They made their way through the glade where many of the outlaws had thrown their blankets down the night before and they could see the helmeted soldiers of the Sheriff, some on horseback, taking on the band of sinewy, armourless outlaws. The bandits were falling to crossbow bolts and sword cuts, while bowshots found the gaps in many a chain mail outfit. 'How can we do our bit?' said Venner, looking around for a bow and a quiver, or anything. Robin had not yet equipped them with the swords and quarterstaves he had mentioned. Julian pulled his knife, then philosophically returned it to his pocket. Three soldiers came running at the two of them, yelling and waving their broadswords. 'No shame in running,' said Venner, but there was a war-shout behind them and Sir Franz and Robin himself came out to intercept the soldiers. They swung their swords valiantly and a man went down under Sir Franz's blade. The other two beat a hasty retreat. 'We brought you those,' said Robin to Venner, pointing towards a couple of magnificent-looking swords. Venner drew one from its sheath and hefted it. He was no fencer, but this well-balanced weapon made him want to take someone on. It felt light and responsive in his hand. Julian drew also, and began prancing in a fair imitation of some gallant outlaw. 'They're running,' shouted Robin back to them as he made his way over to join his sword strokes to those of his merry band. 'Let's get them,' said Venner. He swung his sword and flinched as a tearing sensation went through his side. He lifted his tunic. The wound he had received from the Zulu spear outside Hilldorp was red and inflamed. Sir Franz knelt down and looked at the injury, craning his neck. 'That needs attending to. The kind of help you can't get in Sherwood Forest.' He got to his feet. 'I was about to say,' he added, 'that your future, and mine as well, lies with the Earl of Pembroke who is in the hands of the Sheriff.' Sir Franz's eyelid flickered, as if he wanted to wink but something was stopping him. The forest bandits were driving the soldiers off. Venner wanted to join them and share in the victory. The smell of woodsmoke and trampled grass and leaves made him giddy. If it had not been for the wound which was beginning to fester after he had had to throw away the old vrouw's bandage, he might have run off at that moment. His world could have been Sherwood and nowhere else. 'Julian, do you really think you could make a new life here?' he said. The Hottentot slipped his sword back into its sheath. 'I could follow you and make one, Baas. Otherwise, no.' 'Very well, Sir Franz,' said Venner, 'show us the way to the Earl of Pembroke.' The burly knight led them down a slope beyond the camp where he had three horses waiting. 'These have got the Sheriff's gear on them,' said Venner with a grin when he saw the blue and white saddle cloths and enamelled bits. 'So have they,' said Sir Franz, indicating three blood-covered soldiers in a pile beside the trail. As Venner, Julian and Sir Franz rode towards Nottingham, Venner shouted: 'Sir Franz, I take it that you have men stationed inside the prison and a proper plan in place to enable us to free the Earl.' 'In that case, you take a good deal more than I know,' said the knight with a crazy laugh that reminded Venner of beer sessions in th
e bar back on the starliner. They halted at an inn called The Elephant, where the innkeeper, a man Venner seemed to recognise from the Tortuga, directed three ostlers to take the saddles and bridles from their horses and transfer them to fresh mounts. 'I seem to know you,' said Venner to the innkeeper. 'You're a tech guy, aren't you? The way I've worked it out, and tell me if I'm wrong, is that the Earl of Pembroke, or Captain Cutter, will be able to lead us out of the Holodream Suite into the ship once we've managed to free him from jail. Yes?' The innkeeper, like 'Sir Franz', was reluctant or unable to bite the bullet and come out of character. 'You've got fresh horses,' he muttered, looking down at the straw scattered on the flagstones of the inn's stable yard. 'Good work, Gurth,' said Sir Franz, ushering Venner away and throwing a wink and a nudge in the innkeeper's direction. On fresh steeds they made the miles of woodland fly by. Boars and bears and a wolf or two fled from the sound of the three horsemen galloping through the glades. 'How much further?' Venner asked the knight when the latter called for a short break in their journey. Sir Franz was suffering the same symptoms as Venner, because he jumped to the ground and began massaging his backside. 'How many miles I couldn't say,' he replied, getting a wine skin from the saddle bow of his mount. He took a long pull of the stuff then gasped ecstatically, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 'All I know is, it's that direction,' he said as he handed the skin to Venner, pointing into the north-west. Julian had followed the example of the other two and jumped out of the saddle. He patted the rump of his horse and the beast grunted before beginning to munch the lush greensward of Sherwood. He then accepted the wineskin from Venner and drank. 'Baas, we are riding in circles,' he said. 'We have passed that tree with the dead branch twice already.' Venner went over to Sir Franz, who was lying on his back in the long grass. 'Julian says we have been through here three times now. We're going in circles.' 'What?' 'You see that tree there with the red leaves? Julian says this is the third time we've approached it.' Sir Franz got to his feet and walked towards the branch with the dry, red leaves. 'Now you mention it, he's right.' 'We can't be on the right track, then. So which way are we going to go?' ''What can we do,? There's only one road, and that's it. Let's ride!' said the knight. So they galloped on, though not so wildly as before. Venner was sure the tree with the dead branch was going to turn up again, but before it did they saw two men on the road in front. One was in a friar's habit with a shaved head and a rope around his waist. He was leading a donkey which had an old man in a hooded cloak sitting on it. 'Bless you my lads,,' said the Friar as they all jumped off their horses. 'Are we on the road to Nottingham, brother?' asked the knight. 'Yes,' he said, looking back along the way. 'That is where we are going.' 'I hope there have been no hangings of outlaws there recently?' said Venner. 'Hangings? No.' 'Do you know if they have any candidates for the rope in jail at the moment?' 'I have not heard of any. I have confessed no condemned men, at any rate.' Julian pulled Venner to one side. 'The Predikant there, he knows what a sinner I am, Baas. He does the rounds at Hilldorp, as well as this "Nottamun" town.' That wouldn't surprise me one bit, thought Venner. There was laughter among the bushes beside the way and a jester, one of those self-appointed idiots, appeared in red and yellow trim, with an inflated bladder on a stick and a pointed hat with a bell. Behind him trailed a half-dozen of the common folk from Nottingham, who obviously loved to enjoy the insults the fool scattered around him like chicken feed. Julian slapped his knee and grinned at the jester. 'You see something funny?' said the fool. 'I got you here,' said the Hottentot, pulling a pack of cards from his pocket and showing the joker dressed in the same red and yellow rig. 'I think you are the stepson to a witch if you can bring up my likeness so fast, for I never posed for a portrait yet.' 'Give 'em hell, Felix,' said an older woman amongst his admirers. 'Fine, Tilly,' he replied, 'I shall give them all but my best, because that is yours. Rest assured, dear girl, that my lips remain undefiled, apart from you.' 'He is an excellent rogue,' said the Friar, 'and speaks a good deal of religion amongst his tripe. I was saying, Felix, you can compete with any of these famous fools of kings and earls and princes.' 'I can compete and perchance I'll beat 'em,' said Felix. 'I am certain of it,' said the Friar. 'I am not as other men,' said Felix, bowing his head. 'Why do you say that?' said Tilly. 'After all, you want what other men want, as I know to my cost.' ' Never mind that, Tilly dear,' said Felix, 'the only fee I ever asked from you was to admit you liked it.' 'That fellow seems to keep himself to himself,' said Venner to the Friar, indicating the hooded fellow on the donkey. 'The Prelate? We must not intrude upon him. He has taken a vow not exactly of silence but of reducing his curiosity about the world.' Felix the jester's audience included first of all old Tilly his sweetheart, a cloddish individual called Hal, a woodcutter called Budge, plus a red-headed wench called Beatrice who gave Venner the eye. There was also a doxy called Kate who played up to Julian. The Hottentot wasted no time and was soon arm in arm with her, then they went off into the shrubbery for some while. Then he returned with an even broader grin, while Kate followed, gazing at him in wonderment. Venner soon got steamed up when Beatrice was as they say 'all over him'. He knew of course that he was taking part in a fantasy under a glass bell, as it were. No one could be sure who was watching. If you committed an indiscretion you might end up wearing it around your neck like a gong for life. But what could he do? He had his needs, even here. The chick had skin like milk and the rest of it, and was big here, and well-rounded there, and she seemed to have the attitude that the devil could take the hindmost. So, thinking he was in line for a slice of this and that, he led the willing damsel into the shrubbery where Julian had just played a manly part.
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'Now that I've got you alone, I can advise you to be ready,' she whispered. 'The men around you are good fellows, especially Sir Franz, and you'll be able to find your goal.' 'You mean getting out of this Holodream?' She stared at him as if wanting to agree, or nod at least. Venner realized that some protocol of the Holodream Suite must forbid that intrusion from the world outside. Hollis Pierpoint, of course, was labouring under the same restriction. Venner was now feeling bitterly disappointed as a man. He had been thinking that a simple, buxom wench had taken a fancy to him on account of his natural advantages. Would it be possible to enter this other world and throw away the key as it were? Life in Sherwood Forest didn't seem so bad. Earlier, he had been eager to enter the battle when the outlaws had driven off the Sheriff's soldiers. Perhaps he should have done so. If he had been wounded, even killed, so what? It would have been a life. There was a dizzy temptation in him to go sacrificial about it all. At that moment he felt he had the chance to dive right into the game for good and disappear as it were into the coils of existence alongside Julian and maybe Sir Franz. The girl winked to him and pulled off her red hair which proved to be a wig. Underneath she had pixie-cut fair hair. 'We're all jobbing actors here, one way or the other,' she said, replacing her wig. When they got back, the others had broken open a hamper that came out of one of the donkey's saddle bags. There was also a skin of wine. Soon they had spread a blanket on the ground and were tucking in to cheese, bread, apples, nuts and dried fruit. 'You seem melancholy, Hal,' said Venner to the cloddish lad . 'Anything I can help you with?' Hal took a bite from the golden-crusted chunk of bread he was holding and stared down at his boots. 'It wouldn't be the soldiers, would, it Hal?' said Budge the woodcutter. 'The soldiers?' said Venner. 'Yes, they came rushing by and we hid,' said Budge. 'You're not outlaws, are you? 'No, but they might decide that being in Sherwood with no good reason is worth hoisting us on the branch of a tree. The good Lord himself knows what penalty they might put upon Kate and Beatrice. And Tilly here also, of course.' 'Would the Sheriff entertain that?' asked Venner. 'He might never hear of it,' said Kate. 'If he did,' said Felix the Jester, 'he might just decide to put on one of his come-all-ye exhibitions and punish us in the market square alongside our sons and daughters. He doesn't suffer sensible folk gladly.' They were all just starting to fee
l really satisfied and were settling back for an hour or so of repose when there came another rumbling of hooves and the ground was shaken by the approach of twenty or thirty steeds. 'The cave!' said Tilly, jumping up and grabbing at the apples and bread and the jar of wine. 'Take everything!' said the Friar, throwing a ham and every crumb of cheese and anything else he could find into the blanket. Then he picked it up by the four corners and led the prelate, still chewing, and the steadfast donkey, in the direction indicated by Tilly. Spreading out so as not to trample the grass too much, they found the cave in the side of a hill and entered. The entrance was obscured by the man-high roots of a great hollow oak. Once inside, they sat on the cold ground. Though they did not see anything, they heard a great roar of hooves as the soldiers thundered by. The sound receded. 'Let us wait some time before we go back outside,' said the Friar. 'We can stay here if we have a fire,' said Budge, producing steel and flint and a pocketful of tinder he had gathered earlier. 'No fire!' said Sir Franz. 'We could all end up kippered.' Sir Franz was sitting by the entrance looking out. With him was the Prelate. When the Prelate took his hood down, Venner recognised the face of the Earl of Pembroke, or the man who was on the outside world Ted Cutter, Captain of the Tortuga. This was a reassuring sight, and Venner decided to talk to him and Sir Franz further. Sir Franz was still peering out into the forest, anxious about the Sheriff's men. Suddenly he came dashing back into the cave with the prelate at his heels. 'What is it?' said the Friar. Sir Franz pointed to the light streaming in through the entrance. Two soldiers were peering at them. The helmet or armour of one of them grated on the side of the cave. 'We have you and it's better for you to come out now and not force us to come in. We'll smoke you out if we have to!' one shouted. His voice boomed around the cavern and trickles of dust fell from the walls. 'I'm going further in,' said Beatrice, the red-haired girl, 'I think I see a light up there.' 'Send out the Earl of Pembroke!' shouted one of the soldiers. 'Never!' bellowed the Friar, and his voice loosened the rocks over the entrance to the cave. The soldiers drew back and there was a roaring and shaking of the earth. What seemed like tons of rock fell into the passageway and dust filled the air. The sun no longer streamed in. Everything was still, there was no light. Someone coughed and wheezed. 'Candles!' shouted the Friar, and Budge produced his flint and steel and lit a thick white candle that the Friar produced from a basket on the donkey's back. 'Is it a good idea to light candles?' said Venner, feeling his throat tighten. 'Won't it burn up all the oxygen in here?' 'Oxygen?' said the Friar. 'What's that?' 'Baas,' said Julian, 'before they lit the candle I think I saw what the red-haired girl saw up along the tunnel there. A gleam of light. That's a good way to go, Baas, away from this dust.' With the others following them, they began to crawl.
By the Time I Get to Pellax Page 17