‘Can you kill as well as dance?’ he asked.
‘I can. But I choose not to.’ I was aware that my opponent had stood up, was swaying from side to side. I turned slightly so I could see him out of the corner of my eye. ‘What I prefer is to render him unconscious. That way I win the fight – and you still have a slave.’
The thug’s hands closed on my neck and he bubbled viciously. I was showing off and I knew it. But I had to provide a good performance for my audience. So, without looking at all, I slammed backwards with my bent arm. Sinking my elbow hard into his gut, in the centre, just below the rib cage, in line with the elbows. Right into the nerve ganglion known as the solar plexus. His hands loosened and I stepped forward. Hearing the thud as he hit the ground. Out cold.
Capo Doccia signalled me to him, spoke when I was close.
‘That is a new way to fight, offworlder. We make wagers on the ruffians here who battle with their fists, striking each other until the blood flows and one of them cannot go on.’
‘Fighting like that is crude and wasteful. To know where to strike and how to strike, that is an art.’
‘But your art is of no value against sharp steel,’ he said, half-pulling his sword. I had to tread carefully now or he would be chopping me up just to see what I could do.
‘Bare hands cannot stand against one such as you who is a master of the blade.’ For all I knew he only used the thing to carve his roast, but flattery always helps. ‘However, against an unskilled swordsman or knife-wielder the art has value.’
He digested that, then called to the nearest guard. ‘You, take your knife to this one.’
This was getting out of hand – but I could see no way to avoid the encounter now. The guard smiled and pulled a shining length of dagger from its sheath and stalked towards me. I smiled in return. He raised it over his head to stab down – not holding it pointed directly out before him like an experienced knife-fighter. I let him come on, unmoving until he struck.
Standard defence. Step inside the blow, take the impact of his wrist against my forearm. Seize the knife-wrist with hands, turn and twist. All of this done very fast.
The knife went one way, he went the other. I had to end this demonstration quickly before I was taking on clubs, guns, whatever the head thug felt like. I stepped closer to Capo Doccia and spoke in a quiet voice.
‘These are offworld secrets of defence – and killing – that are unknown here on Spiovente. I do not wish to reveal more here. I am sure you do not wish slaves to learn dangerous blows like these. Let me show you what can be done without this raw audience. I can train your bodyguards in these skills. There are those who want to kill you. Think of your own security first.’
It sounded like a lecture on traffic safety to me, but it seemed to make sense to him. But he wasn’t completely convinced.
‘I do not like new things, new ways. I like things as they are.’
Right, with him on top and the rest in chains below. I talked fast.
‘What I do is not new – but as old as mankind. Secrets that have been passed on in secret since the dawn of time. Now these secrets can be yours. Change is on the way, you know that, and knowledge is strength. When others seek to take what you have any weapon is useful to defeat them.’
It sounded like nonsense to me – but I hoped that it made sense to him. From what The Bishop had told me about this garbage world the only security was in strength – paranoia paid off. At least it had him thinking – which from the narrowness of his forehead was something he probably found hard to do. He turned on his heel and walked away.
Politeness, like soap, was also unknown on this planet. No ‘see you later’ or ‘let me think about that’. It took me a few moments to realise that the audience was over. The disarmed guard was glaring at me and rubbing his wrist. But he had put the dagger away. Since I had talked with Capo Doccia I now had some status so he wouldn’t knife me without reason. Which left my first protagonist, the ex-Pusher. He was sitting up dizzily when I approached. He looked up at me, blinking and befuddled. I tried to look my meanest when I spoke.
‘That is two times you have come at me. You will not do it a third time. Third time means out in my ball game. You will die if you try anything ever again.’
The hatred was still there in his face – but there was fear as well. I stepped forward and he cringed back. Good enough. As long as I didn’t turn my back on him very often. I turned it now and stalked away.
He shambled after me and joined the waiting gang of slaves. He seemed to have accepted his demotion, as had the others. There were a few black looks in his direction but no more violence. Which was fine by me. It is one thing to work out in the gym – but something totally different here, mixing with these heavies really trying to kill me. The Bishop beamed his congratulations.
‘Well done, Jim, well done.’
‘And all very tiring. What next?’
‘From what I could discover this little group is off duty, so to speak, having worked during the night.’
‘Then rest and food are in order. Lead on.’
I suppose it could be called food. About the only good thing I could say about it was that it was not as repulsive as the Venian cooking aboard the spacer. A large and exceedingly filthy pot was seething over a fire to the rear of the building. The chef – if one dared use that term for this repulsive individual, as filthy as his pot – was stirring the contents with a long wooden spoon. The slaves each took a wooden bowl from the dripping pile on the table close by and these were filled by the cook. There was no worry about lost or broken cutlery because there wasn’t any. Everyone dipped and shovelled with their fingers, so I did the same. It was vegetable gruel of some kind, pretty tasteless, but filling. The Bishop sat next to me on the ground, back to the wall, and slowly ate his. I finished first and had no difficulty in restraining a desire for a second serving.
‘How long do we stay slaves?’ I asked.
‘Until I learn more about how things operate here. You have spent your entire life on a single planet, so both consciously and unconsciously you accept the society you know as the only one. Far from it. Culture is an invention of mankind, just like the computer or the fork. There is a difference though. While we are willing to change computers or eating instruments, the inhabitants of a culture will brook no changes at all. They believe that theirs is the only and unique way to live – and anything else is abberation.’
‘Sounds stupid.’
‘It is. But as long as you know that, and they don’t, you can step outside the rules or bend them for your own benefit. Right now I’m finding out what the rules are here.’
‘Try not to take too long.’
‘I promise not to since I am not that comfortable myself. I must determine if vertical mobility exists and how it is organised. If there is no vertical mobility we will just have to manufacture it.’
‘You have lost me. Vertical what?’
‘Mobility. In terms of class and culture. Take for example these slaves and the guards outside. Can a slave aspire to be a guard? If he can, then there is vertical mobility. If he cannot this is a stratified society and horizontal mobility is all that can be accomplished.’
‘Such as becoming top slave and kicking all other slaves?’
He nodded. ‘You have it, Jim. We shall cease being slaves as soon as my studies show how that is possible. But first we need some rest. You will observe that the others are now asleep on the straw to the rear of this noisome building. I suggest we join them.’
‘Agreed …’
‘You, get over here.’
It was Tars Tukas. And of course he was pointing at me. I had a feeling that it was going to be a very long day.
At least I was seeing more of the sights. We crossed the courtyard, scene of my triumphs, and up a flight of stone steps. There was an armed guard here and two more inside lolling about on a wooden bench. A bit more luxury too. Woven mats on the floors, chairs and tables, a few bad portraits on the w
alls, some with a rough resemblance to Capo Doccia. I was hustled right along into a large room with windows that faced out over the outer wall. I could see fields and trees and little else. Capo Doccia was there, along with a small band of men, all drinking from metal cups. They were well-dressed, if multicoloured leather trousers and billowing shirts and long swords is your idea of well-dressed. Capo Doccia waved me over.
‘You, come here and let us look at you.’
The others turned with interest and eyed me like an animal on auction.
‘And he actually knocked the other one down without using his fists?’ one of them said. ‘He is so weak and puny, not to mention ugly.’
There are times when the mouth should be opened only to put in food. This was probably one of them. But I was tired, fed up with my lot, and generally in a foul temper. Something snapped.
‘Not as weak, puny or ugly as you, you pig’s git.’
This got his attention all right. He howled with instant anger, turned bright red – then drew a long steel blade and rushed at me.
I had little time to think, less time to act. One of the other dandies was standing close by, his metal drinking mug held loosely. I grabbed it from him, turned and threw the contents in the attacking man’s face.
Most of it missed, but enough dripped down onto his clothes to infuriate him even more. He slashed down with his sword and I caught the blow on the mug, diverting it. Letting the mug slide up along the blade into his fingers, grabbing and twisting his sword arm at the same time.
He howled nicely and the sword clattered to the floor. After this he was turned sideways, nicely exposed for a finishing kick to the back.
Except someone tripped me from behind at that moment and I went sprawling.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
They thought this very amusing because their laughter was all I could hear. When I scrambled for the fallen blade one of them kicked it aside. Things were not looking too good. I couldn’t fight them all. I had to get out.
It was too late. Two of them knocked me to the ground from behind and another one kicked me in the side. Before I could get up my sword-wielding opponent was on top of me, kneeling on my chest and drawing an exceedingly ugly dagger with a wavery edge.
‘What is this creature, Capo Doccia?’ he called out, holding my chin with his free hand, the dagger close to my throat.
‘An offworlder,’ Capo Doccia said. ‘They threw him off the spacer.’
‘Is it valuable, worth anything?’
‘I don’t know,’ Capo Doccia said, looking down at me bemusedly. ‘Perhaps. But I don’t like its fancy offplanet tricks. They don’t belong here. Oh, kill it and be done.’
I had not moved during this interesting exchange because I had some obvious interest in its outcome. I moved now.
The knife-wielder screamed as I twisted his arm – breaking it I hope – and grabbed the dagger as his fingers flew open. I held onto him as I jumped to my feet then pushed him into the midst of his companions. They were behind me as well, but they fell back as I swept the dagger about in a circle. Moving after it, running before they could get their own weapons out. Running for my life.
The only direction I knew, back down the stairs. Bumping into Tars Tukas and rendering him unconscious as I passed.
Roars and shouts of anger sounded behind me and I wasted no time even glancing their way. Down the stairs, three at a time, towards the guards at the entrance. They were still scrambling to their feet when I ploughed into them and we all went down. I kneed one under the chin as we fell, grabbing his gun by the barrel as I did this. The other was struggling to point his weapon at me when I caught him in the side of the head with the one I was holding.
The running feet were right behind me as I charged through the door, right at the surprised guard. He drew his sword but before he could use it he was unconscious. I dropped the dagger and seized his more lethal sword and ran on. The gate we had entered by was ahead. Wide open.
And well-guarded by armed men who were already raising their guns. I angled off towards the slave building as they fired. I don’t know where their shots went but I was still alive as I turned the corner.
One knife, one gun, one very tired Jim diGriz. Who did not dare stop or even slow down. The outer wall was ahead – with scaffolding and a ladder leaning against it where masons were making repairs. I screeched and waved my weapons and the workmen dived in all directions. I went up the ladders as fast as I could. Noticing that bullets were striking the wall on all sides of me, chips of stone flying.
Then I was on top of the wall, fighting for breath, chancing a look behind me for the first time.
Dropping to my face as the massed gunmen below fired a volley that parted the air just above my head. Capo Doccia and his court had left the pursuit to the guards and were standing behind them cursing and waving their weapons. Very impressive. I pulled my head back as they fired again.
Other guards were climbing up the wall and moving towards me. Which really did limit my choices a bit. I looked over the outside of the wall at the brown surface of the water that lay at its base. Some choice!
‘Jim, you must learn to do something about your big mouth,’ I said, then took a deep breath and jumped.
Splashed – and stuck. The water was just up to my neck and I was stuck in the soft mud that had broken my fall. I struggled against it, pulling out one foot, then the other, struggling against its gluey embrace as I waded to the far bank. My pursuers weren’t in sight yet – but they would surely be right behind me. All I could do was keep moving. Crawling up the grassy bank, still clutching my purloined weapons, then staggering into the shelter of the trees ahead. And still no sign of the armed guards. They should be across the bridge and after me by this time. I couldn’t believe my good luck.
Until I fell headlong, screaming as the pain washed over me. Pain unbelievable, blotting out sight, sound, senses.
Then it stopped and I brushed the tears of agony from my eyes. The paincuff – I had forgotten all about it. Tars Tukas had regained consciousness and was thumbing the control button. What had he said? Leave it on long enough and it blocks all the nerves, kills. I grabbed at my shoe and the lockpick concealed there as the pain struck again.
When it stopped this time I was almost too weak to move my fingers. As I fumbled with the pick I realised that they were sadists and I should be grateful for the fact. With the button held down I was good as dead. But someone, undoubtedly Capo Doccia, wanted me both to suffer and know that there was no way out. The key was in the lock when pain consumed me one more time.
When it stopped I was lying on my side, the lockpick fallen from my fingers, unable to move.
But I had to move. Another wave of agony like that and it would be all over for me. I would lie in these woods until I died. My fingers trembled, moved. The pick crept towards the tiny opening of the lock, moved in, twisted feebly …
It took a very long time for the red mists to clear from my vision, the agony to seep out of my body. I could not move, felt I would never stir again. I had to blink the tears away when I could see. See the most beautiful sight in the world.
The open paincuff lying on the mouldy leaves.
Only my captors’ knowledge that the pain machine led to certain death had saved my life. The searchers were in no hurry; I could hear them talking as they moved through the woods towards me.
‘… somewhere in here. Why don’t they just leave him?’
‘Leave a good blade and a shooter. No chance of that. And Capo Doccia wants to hang the body up in the courtyard until it rots. Never saw him that angry.’
Life slowly returned to my paralysed body. I moved off the animal track I had been following and pulled myself into the shelter of the low shrubbery, reaching out to straighten out the grass. And not too soon.
‘Look-he came out of the water here. Went along this path.’
Heavy footsteps approached and went by. I clutched my weapons and did the only thing possible. La
y quiet and waited for my strength to return.
This was, I must admit, a bit of a low point in my life. Friendless, alone, still throbbing with pain, exhausted, hunted by armed men just dying to kill me, thirsty … It was quite a list. About the only thing that hadn’t happened so far was to get rained on.
It started to rain.
There are high and low points in emotion when there is no room for excess. To love one so much it would be impossible to love any more. I think. Never having had any personal experience in that. But I had plenty of experience in being in the pits. Where I was now. I could sink no lower nor get more depressed. It was the rain that did it. I began to chuckle – then grabbed my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh out loud. Then the laughter died away as my anger grew. This was no way to treat a mean and nasty stainless steel rat! Now in danger of getting rusty.
I moved my legs and had to stifle a groan. The pain was still there but the anger rode it down. I clutched the gun and stuck the sword into the ground, then pulled myself to my feet by grabbing the branches of the tree with my free hand. Grabbed up the sword again and stood there, swaying. But not falling. Until I was finally able to stagger off, one step at a time, away from the searchers and Capo Doccia’s criminal establishment.
The forest was quite extensive and I moved along game paths for an immeasurable length of time. I had left the searchers far behind, I was sure of that. So when the forest thinned and ended I leaned against a tree to catch my breath and looked out at the tilled field. It was time to find my way back to the haunts of man. Where there were ploughs there were ploughboys. They shouldn’t be too hard to find. When a certain measure of strength had returned I staggered off along the edge of the field, ready to fall into the forest at the sight of armed men. I was very pleased to see the farmhouse first. It was low to the ground, thatched and windowless – at least on this side. It had a chimney from which there rose a thin trickle of smoke. No need for heating in this balmy climate – so this must be a cooking fire. Food.
The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection Page 15