Once, she had thought to find her unknown goal in self-sacrificing service to her mother. Then she had turned to the hope of the primly abstract heaven of Ecumenical Monotheism. This was a powerful syncretic cult combining Judaic, Christian, and Islamic elements, founded by Getulio C&aTilde;o.
Now, however, the catastrophic absence of Bishop Harichand Raman had soured her on his church. She was just as glad to be still sailing under her own name and not the alternative one, such as “Piety” or “Chastity,” which the bishop was to have conferred upon her when he gave her her assignment. Still, if Bishop Raman had materialized upon the Labághti right then, conscience would have forced her to obey his commands.
Bahr, endowed like Althea with a sea-going constitution, leaned against one of the crates lashed to the deck and smoked his pipe. The three Terrans had boarded just as the crew were stowing these crates. Since there had been too many crates to fit into the hold, the overflow had been stowed on deck.
Brian Kirwan, looking almost as green as a Krishnan, staggered forward.
“Feeling better?” said Althea.
“Ha! It takes more than a touch of sea to down the great Brian Kirwan for long, though I curse the man who first tied two logs together to make a boat.” The poet shook his head and ran a hand across his forehead. “ ’Twill pass. Now, isn’t that the sight for you?” He waved an arm toward the sunset and broke into guttural Gaelic noises. “That’s a bit of a poem I’m after composing, in Irish, of course. All about how the isle of Zamba sits in the evening on the smaragdine Sadabao Sea, but for all its chlorophyllic greenery it’s not Eire, and wouldn’t be even if it was, because the Ireland that Zamba isn’t doesn’t exist except in the poetical imagination. If I make myself clear.”
Althea did not think that Kirwan had made himself clear but refrained from telling him so. The samples of his verse that he had quoted had impressed Althea as pretty amateurish. In fact, she was becoming convinced that Kirwan was no more than an eccentric idler, who claimed poetic talents to justify an otherwise useless existence. Kirwan continued, “Poignant, isn’t it? But at least Krishna has some color and poetry left to it, unlike my native land, which shows the same dull-gray uniformity as the rest of the Earth. The back of me hand to democracy! We need kings and nobility again, a system with a soul.”
Althea said, “That’s all very well if you happen to be one of the nobles—”
“And who could deny the rank to the great Brian Kirwan? But who can write serious poetry about some ninny passing a civil service examination, so as to be hired as a dark by some stupid board or commission?”
“Ignore him,” said Bahr. “As a poet he feels obliged to affect such attitudes.”
“You crass Philistine, you!” sneered Kirwan. “By God, if I’d known what a dull, stupid, tedious fossil of a man was going to make my life hideous with boredom, I’d have waited for the next ship.”
Bahr urbanely continued. “As I was about to explain, modern psychometry is not a theory but a well-tested body of fact. Also it is not anti-democratic, at least not more than the actual human race.”
“How do you mean, the human race?” said Althea.
“Well, after all these years of education and beautiful constitutions and world government, most human beings still regard public office as an excuse to enrich themselves, reward their friends, and exterminate their enemies. And anyway, democracy is not the same as egalitarianism—”
“It’s wasting your time you are,” said Kirwan. “The girl knows it all already. Got the Truth from her Dago prophet.”
Althea protested. “Everybody seems to think that because I’m a missionary, I must be some sort of grim fanatic. Now really, I don’t know an awful lot about the fine points at Getulio C&aTilde;o’s theology, although I had to accept the fundamentals when I joined the mission. But I can still think for myself.”
“Good for you!” said Bahr. “How did you happen to get into this kind of work?”
“Oh, my mother died and I felt useless and alone. I’d taken care of her for years and didn’t have any good ready way to make a living.”
“What had she lived on?” asked Bahr with a keen look.
“She had money, but she left it all to my brothers. All I got was a useless patch of land near Lake George.”
“The shame of it!” cried Kirwan. “Couldn’t you sue ’em? Or don’t they have laws to protect heirs in America?”
“Oh, I couldn’t sue my family!” said Althea.
“By God, I could; or I could bounce a dornick off their ugly heads if the occasion called for it. You’ve got no guts at all, girl. But that doesn’t tell us how you became a missionary lady.”
“Well, I wanted to do some good in the galaxy. So, having been brought up an Ecumenical Monotheist, I went around to our presbyter, and he sent me to training school, and they sent me out here.”
“What ails the young men of Earth? Are they blind, that one of ’em didn’t carry you off to bear his sons, and you so beautiful and all?” asked Kirwan.
“Brian!” said Althea severely. “No, I suppose I might as well tell you. I’ve got three brothers—”
“Your people must have had a high genetic rating,” said Bahr, “four children to be allowed.”
“They did; my father was a brilliant New York lawyer. But after he died, my brothers discouraged my getting married every way they could. They didn’t want to take care of Mother, who was a difficult character. As long as I was single, they figured I’d do it. So when I had a boyfriend in, they’d go out of their way to make him uncomfortable. When he’d gone, they’d work on me, telling me what a stupid boor he was. And now I suppose it’s too late.”
“Ah, it’s never too late,” said Kirwan. “Sure, if I didn’t have other plans, I’d have a try at marrying you myself, or at least a damned good seduction.” He grinned lewdly. “However, I suppose your religion protects you against such dangers, darling?”
“It’s supposed to,” said Althea. “Have you a religion?”
“Well, now, a famous Irish scholar, Stephen Mackenna it was, said the best religion for a man to have is to be a bad Catholic. But I’m not even that.”
“What then?”
“I call myself a pseudo-neo-pagan.”
“A what?”
“ ’Tis not surprising you never heard of it, for I’m the only one. I dabble in all the old cults and sects, not taking ’em seriously, but using ’em to stimulate the poetic imagination. You ought to try it.”
###
The day died. Kirwan yawned. “Time we turned in, darling, unless you want to watch the three moons chase one another.”
Althea said, “I think I’ll sleep on deck. I can’t stand the smell of that little cabin, especially that rancid grease the captain and the mate wear.”
Kirwan asked, “Aren’t you afraid one of the sailors will misconstrue you?”
“Oh, nobody bothers a skinny old maid like me.”
“It gets colder than you might think,” said Bahr.
“Well, could one of you lend me a jacket?”
“Sure, sure,” said Kirwan.
He went aft to the small cabin below the poop deck and presently returned with a windbreaker which he gave Althea. He and Bahr said goodnight and departed.
As they entered the cabin, Althea heard Captain Memzadá burst into angry speech. From the few words that she caught, she inferred that he was scolding Bahr for going below while smoking. Bahr murmured an apology and knocked his pipe out against the rail. Althea glimpsed a cloud of red sparks flying off into the dusk and soon fell asleep herself.
She dreamed that she was bound to a stake on the island of Zesh. Brian Kirwan and a gorillalike native, wearing an evening hat, were arguing about what should be done to her. A swarm of naked Roussellians, coated with grease, capered around the stake to the beat of a hollow-log drum. Kirwan wanted to burn her because that was how it was done in the rites of the ancient Numidian god Baal-Glub, while the native (like a tailed an
d hairier Gorchakov) wanted to save her to found a dynasty with. Gottfried Bahr was proving them both wrong by scientific arguments—Kirwan because she was too green to burn and the Zau because he and she would not prove interfertile.
“That what you think!” said the native. “I show you!” And he started to tear her clothes off.
She awoke to find that her clothes were being, if not torn off, at least taken off. A grease-clad Krishnan sailor squatted over her, fumbling with unfamiliar buttons.
Althea Merrick pressed her palms to the deck, pushing herself back against the gunwale. For the moment she was too frightened and confused to move or speak. Dream and reality were commingled in her mind.
The sailor grinned and muttered. Althea caught the impression that he was explaining that he had never had a good look at a Terran female and wanted to see how one was made. However, his further intentions were obvious to any observant eye.
Althea braced herself to roll away from the sailor, filling her lungs to shout. Quick as a flash, the Daryau clamped a greasy hand over Althea’s mouth, forcing her head back down into the angle between the gunwale and the deck.
With a thrill of horror, Althea felt herself held down by the fellow’s iron muscles. Worse yet, something in her own nature seemed to urge her not to resist; to relax and enjoy whatever ensued.
Then Althea’s strength returned. She sank her teeth into the dirty palm and, as it jerked back, she got one hand entwined in the sailor’s hair and pulled herself into a sitting position. She screamed and grabbed for the Krishnan’s throat.
“Beqani!” snarled the sailor in a stage-whisper, his voice hoarse from Althea’s effort to strangle him. He aimed a blow at her.
They were still wrestling when footsteps drummed on the deck. A forest of legs sprouted around Althea, shutting off the moonlight. Hands tore the sailor loose and hauled him to his feet. Althea got up, dizzy from the sailor’s mauling and cuffing.
“What’s this rogue doing to you, darling?” roared Brian Kirwan.
Althea explained. Bahr translated to Captain Memzadá, who gave a terse command. The concupiscent mariner was tied to the mainmast so tightly that he could not have escaped in a century. When he was safely bound, Kirwan emitted a shout.
“Now I’ve got you, you dirty heathen!”
He kicked the sailor in the shins and punched his face, beating the Krishnan’s head back and forth against the mast until the captain stepped between them and pushed Kirwan away from his victim, growling in his own speech. Bahr said, “He says he will punish him in the morning, but you are to let him alone.”
“So it’s taking the side of the dirty louse, he is? Why you—” Here Kirwan shouted several obscenities at the captain. As they were in English, the latter merely stared, standing grimly with a hand on his knife. Kirwan turned toward the cabin, muttering.
Bahr said to Althea, “Now had you better not some sleep in the cabin get?”
Althea nodded mutely and followed her companions back to the poop. Kirwan, his outburst over, said, “Sure, if every man you meet is going to tear the clothes off you, you’d better wear things with zippers. At least it’ll save the clothes.”
Bahr said, “The zippers would save her clothes, maybe, but not that which to her appears more valuable.”
“A much overrated commodity,” said Kirwan. “Of negotiable value only in patriarchal societies.”
Althea shook her head. “Earth was never like this!”
V
Next morning Althea lay on her pallet, too sore and miserable to move, when a change in the motion of the ship aroused her. She came out to see the Labághti hove to captain, passengers, and crew gathered around the mainmast. The captain gave an order, and a couple of sailors untied the prisoner. Gottfried Bahr said in a low voice, “The captain told them to—ah—I don’t know how you would sat it; zu kielholen ihn.”
“Keelhaul him!” said Kirwan.
“What’s that?” asked Althea. “I’ve heard the word—”
“Sh!” said Kirwan. “You’ll see.”
While the Terrans were speaking, grinning sailors tied four long ropes to the limbs of the accused. Three of them hustled him to the bow, while a fourth walked aft along the rail, paying out one of the ropes over the side as he went.
The sailors holding the remaining three ropes then seized the culprit and threw him off the bow. His shriek was cut off by the splash.
The sailor who had walked to the stern, standing braced, began hauling in his rope so that the victim was drawn underwater and back along the ship’s keel. Two of the rope-holders walked slowly aft, each leaning over the rail, one on each side and holding his rope, so that the sailor was kept centered under the keel. Meanwhile, the remaining rope man remained at the bow, paying out his rope as the sailor was pulled away from him.
Bahr said, “There is an easier way to haul him from one side of the ship to the other, but the captain means to make an example of him.”
“But he’ll drown!” cried Althea unhappily.
“Hush, girl,” said Kirwan. “ ’Twill be a small loss.”
Bahr said dryly, “I think that the punishment is timed so that the victim can just survive if he keeps his head and takes a long breath before being drawn under. But I doubt if this one so much presence of mind had.”
“If he’d been that smart,” said Kirwan, “he’d not have got into trouble in the first place. At least, darling, you can’t complain you don’t attract the men. First Gorchakov, now this felly.”
In time, the sailor appeared at the stern of the ship. Two Krishnans hauled the body up over the stern. It lay still on the poop deck, with water running off its greasy skin. Althea approached it fearfully. She had never before seen a man or a humanoid who had died by violence. She said, “He might have a little life in him. We ought to try artificial respiration.”
“It is best not to interfere,” said Bahr.
“Besides,” said Kirwan, “what d’you want to bring the bastard back for? Good riddance, I’d say.”
“No, that’s against my principles,” said Althea.
She bent over the body, from which the sailors were untying the ropes. If the Earthmen would not help, she would have to do her duty.
She tugged and heaved the bulky body into prone position, straddled it, and began pumping air into its lungs. Captain Memzadá burst into questions. Bahr answered these and explained to Althea, “I have told him that it is a religious rite. He says that now he knows all Terrans are mad, but he will not interfere.”
Althea continued pumping until she got tired. Then the other Terrans, shamed into action, relieved her. Bahr had just taken over from Kirwan when the body began to stir, groan, and cough. The rest of the ship’s company cast startled glances at the Terrans and edged away from them.
Althea and her companions left the sailor huddled in a corner of the poop deck, collapsed but alive. The captain looked at them with an unreadable expression as they walked past him at the tiller. The Labághti had long since been under way again.
Later that day, Althea, sitting in the bow in a reverie, was approached by her companions and the revived sailor. Bahr said, “This man is very perplexed. He would like to ask you some questions.”
“All right,” said Althea.
“First, he wishes to know if your reviving him meant that you had changed your mind and wished to go to the races with him after all. The last expression is, I believe, a euphemism.”
“Of course not. I revived him because I considered death too severe a punishment for what he had done.”
Bahr and the sailor conversed. The former said: “Do you mean, he says, that you went to all that trouble over a mere question of justice?”
“That’s right.”
The sailor shook his head. Bahr said, “He wants to know if you wish to be friends with him?”
“No.”
Bahr told the sailor, and Kirwan added a few words in his own broken Gazashtandu, explaining: “I told the beggar if he
so much as came within reach of you, I’d take his hide off personally and use it to bind me next book.”
Time slipped by as the Labághti plodded her way eastward among the islands of the Sadabao Sea. Althea turned brown from the sun and even put on a little weight, while Bahr lectured her on the theory and technique of intelligence testing. The hopeless trapped feeling which had come upon her when she stepped off the spaceship at Novorecife and learned that Bishop Raman was away, subsided. She did not, however, get over her tendency to scan the western horizon for the sail of a pursuing ship.
The three Terrans were standing in a cluster at the poop deck rail and watching the island of Jerud slide below the horizon when Althea asked, “Gottfried, how are you going to test the Záva?”
Bahr lit his pipe. “That depends on the mental level that I find. On the ordinary Mangioni scale, which takes the consolidated averages for the whole human race as one hundred percent, the tailless Krishnans average one hundred and two and the Koloftuma seventy-eight, so one would normally test the latter by the tests used for preadolescent human beings. But if the rumors be true, I may have to use the Takamoto genius test.”
“Ha!” said Kirwan. “And what does an intelligence test measure? Why, the ability to pass an intelligence test, nothing more!”
Althea asked, “What’s happened on Zá to get the Interplanetary Council and the Terran World Federation so excited?”
“Well,” explained Bahr, “thirty years ago, Terran time, the Záva were living the same sort of savage lives that the tailed Krishnans of Koloft and Fossanderan still do. The other Sadabao Islanders raided them to catch the young for slaves, the adults being too intractable. But they had never been able to conquer Zá, not so much because of the resistance of the Záva, whose sticks and stones could not have done much against armored men with swords and crossbows, as because of the shape of the island, which like Zesh is surrounded by steep cliffs with only two landing places.
The Virgin of Zesh & the Tower of Zanid Page 4