The Virgin of Zesh & the Tower of Zanid

by L. Sprague De Camp

  “You!” he barked. “You were told to have no contact with the Záva!”

  “What’s this?” said Althea.

  Yuruzh said in English, “You’re English-speaking, aren’t you, Miss Merrick?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought so. Our Noble Savage claims you’re a member of his society. Are you?”

  “No,” said Althea.

  “Let me explain,” said Bahr. “I am a psychologist from Terra, come here to make some psychometric tests, and this young lady is my assistant. We came with another Terran, who really is a member of the cult. Now, if you could set a time for some preliminary tests, of yourself and a representative sample of your subjects, the Interplanetary Council would be most—”

  “Sorry, old man, but that’ll have to wait,” said Yuruzh. He then addressed Kuroki. “If she’s not, she had every right to warn me. Even if she had been, I should consider a deliberate refusal to tell us of the approach of our enemies as an unfriendly act. You seem to forget that this island belongs to us, and you’re merely tenants. Now get along about your business, and consider yourselves lucky that I do not hang a few of you on general principles.”

  Fuming but cowed, the leading Roussellians departed. Yuruzh spoke in his own language to one of the tailed ones, who ran toward the beach. Then he spoke to Althea:

  “And now, my dear Miss Merrick, where can we discuss this threat in comfort?”

  Althea led the tailed Krishnan to her hut, Bahr trailing after. Inside, she once again told the story of the sailor on the Labághti and produced the crumpled note.

  Yuruzh scrutinized the paper and said: “I hope my people will be able to write their own language better than this fellow does his. This calls for thought.”

  For some minutes, Yuruzh sat with his chin on his fist. Then a long-tailed Zau dashed into the hut and spilled out a whole paragraph in his own speech.

  “Merde!” said Yuruzh. “The Dasht moved swiftly. One of our gliders has sighted his whole fleet, headed for the south coast of Zesh.”

  “You mean for us?” said Althea.

  “Precisely. He seems to have made a detour so as to take this island by surprise.”

  “Why should he attack Zesh instead of Zá? I thought he was after your people.”

  “Perhaps he knows that Zá will prove a tough nut and prefers to seize Zesh as an advanced base first. Or maybe he thinks he can thus force our smaller fleet out for a pitched battle, where he’d have the advantage. However, I have work to do, my friends. Thanks for your cooperation.”

  Yuruzh squeezed Althea’s hand, waved to Bahr, and walked out.

  “Quite a personality,” said Bahr, staring after the Zau chief. “I suspect that he is one of the few Krishnans who have been to Earth. He could not so easily the Terrans mannerisms have acquired otherwise. He is also devilishly intelligent.”

  “What’ll we do?” said Althea. “We never got a chance to ask to be evacuated from Zesh.”

  Bahr shrugged. “I don’t know. We might go out to ascertain whether we can see the attacking fleet.”

  They wandered out toward the cliff top. Halevi-Diomedes shouted at them, “Why aren’t you two at work?” but without real conviction. Most of the Roussellians had taken a spontaneous day off, despite the commands of their leaders.

  Roqir blazed down upon a tranquil Sadabao Sea. Far out, just breaking the horizon, Althea saw a row of little specks.

  “Those would be the ships,” said Bahr, peering through his glasses. “Unfortunately, I am too myopic to discern them at this distance.”

  They watched the approaching fleet. Althea said, “Let’s see if that galley is still on our beach.”

  She began to stroll westward along the clifftop toward the beach. She had not, however, gone many steps when voices caused her to turn. There stood a score of Roussellians, both men and women, stripped for action. Some held clubs; some, stones. Diogo Kuroki was haranguing them.

  “There they are! The decadent products of a rotten civilization, who have tried to destroy our noble experiment! I warned them not to take sides in this squabble among the natives. But they did so anyway, because of their jealousy of the simple bliss of our Utopian life and their implacable hatred of whatever is natural and beautiful. So now we are involved in this battle and may be destroyed. Is it just to let them go scot-free?”

  “N&aTilde;o!” shouted the Roussellians, and arms bearing stones swung up to throw.

  “Run!” cried Althea, doing so.

  Bahr ran after her. Stones whizzed. As Bahr came abreast of Althea, one struck him in the back with a horrid thump. Another grazed Althea’s left hip, not hard enough to do serious damage. Behind her, she heard the yelps and tramplings and pantings of the pack.

  “The beach path!” gasped Bahr.

  Althea found the trail and bounded down it in great leaps, her eyes glued to the ground ahead. She had a horror of turning an ankle, falling headlong, and being beaten to jelly by the enraged Roussellians.

  The beach seemed much farther than she had thought, and she feared that she had gone astray. Behind her, the Utopians pounded grimly on. She would have thought that, in view of her speed, she would have left them behind by now. But the children of nature were able runners.

  Bahr’s breath came in gasps behind her. If she was not in training for such athletics, the psychologist was in even worse case. Althea guessed that for decades he had done no more strenuous exercise than hoisting a stein.

  Behind came Kuroki’s scream, “Faster! Catch them before they reach the beach!”

  With a final burst of speed, Althea ran out of the forest and on the beach. Yuruzh’s galley was still beached in the middle of the crescent-shaped strand. Another galley lay alongside it. Tailed Záva were all over the beach. Althea picked out Yuruzh by his stature and his cloak and diadem, near the bow of the first ship, talking with others of his kind.

  “Help! Yuruzh!” she cried.

  The chief looked around. The next instant, he had snatched a bow from another Zau. He drew, aimed, and released all in one motion. The arrow whizzed past Althea and struck something behind her. There came the thump of a body’s falling on the sand. Althea halted and looked back.

  A big Roussellian, vaguely familiar, lay a few feet behind her. The point of an arrow protruded from his back. The shaft had struck him in the chest, and he had fallen forward on it, driving it the rest of the way through his body. His club lay beside him.

  The other Roussellians scattered and dodged back into the shelter of the trees. In a twinkling, they had all disappeared. Gottfried Bahr collapsed and lay sucking in great gasps of air. Yuruzh, with a second arrow nocked, walked toward Althea, saying, “My word, young lady, you certainly seem to lead a full life! What is it this time?”

  When she got her breath, Althea told Yuruzh what had happened. He pondered and said, “I fear that we shall have to terminate this Arcadian dream. Your fellow Terrans are simply too difficult to put up with. But—”

  “Yes?” said Althea.

  Yuruzh had turned his attention seaward. The Daryao ships were nearer. Because Althea was now closer to the sea level than before, she could not see any more of them, only their sails. Yuruzh said, “I was going to send for you. We have one small chance of beating those fellows, but it depends upon a ruse. For the purpose, I need one non-Zau who is also a powerful swimmer. I fear our Roussellian friends won’t help us, but perhaps one of you two could. How about you, Doctor Bahr?”

  Bahr, who had gotten his breath back, shook his head. “I am no athlete, Herr Chief. I can perhaps a dozen meters swim, but that is all.”

  “How about you, Miss Merrick?”

  “I’m a pretty good swimmer, even if out of practice.”

  “Can you swim a hod?”

  “How far is that?”

  “About one and one-fifth kilometers, or three-quarters of the old English mile.”

  “Y-yes, I think I can.”

  “Very well, I should like you to wait unt
il those ships are closer and then swim out to them. They’ll probably heave to, about a hod out, because the rocks and shoals extend almost that far out and they’ll halt for final orders and formation. Call to them when you get near them, and they’ll haul you aboard. When they ask you what you’re doing there, tell them I’m on Zesh with a few Záva consulting the Virgin, and that you escaped from durance vile.” Yuruzh grinned. “You’d better lay it on thick; tell ’em I’ve been subjecting you to my bestial lusts.”

  “But why?” inquired Althea.

  “Because the Dasht will come rushing in to grab me before I can get back to my own island.”

  “But you don’t want that, do you?”

  “Yes, I do. I’m laying a trap for him, with myself as the cheese. Carry out your part and hold yourself ready to dive overboard the minute anything goes wrong with the ship and swim ashore.”

  “Well . . .” said Althea doubtfully. The plan frightened her, and she had little confidence in her own ability to carry through such a coup. Yuruzh added, “I know it’s a lot to ask, but what else can I do? The Dasht has me outnumbered two to one, and I’m not fooling myself that the Daryava aren’t keen fighters. After all, I have a kind of Utopian experiment of my own to protect.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not really up to such a feat.”

  “Please!” Yuruzh squeezed her hand in his and looked down at her out of big green eyes. “After all, I did save your life just now. You owe me something.”

  “All right,” said Althea. “What language shall I use to the Dasht? I don’t know all these dialects.”

  “Ordinary Gazashtandu will do; can you speak it?”

  “Well enough.” Althea gave Yuruzh the speech that she intended to make to the Dasht of Darya.

  “Fine,” said Yuruzh. “Don’t try to be too glib. If you fumble around a bit, it’ll carry more conviction.” He gazed out to sea, shading his eyes with his hand. “You’d better push off in a couple of minutes.”

  Althea exchanged glances with Bahr. The psychologist looked furtive, nervously pulling his lower lip. Then there was the question of what to wear . . . Althea sighed. So much had happened to her that the puritanical tenets of Ecumenical Monotheism seemed to have lost their meaning. She took off her clothes, piled them beside Bahr on the sand, and said a brief good-bye.

  “Auf Wiedersehen, liebchen!” said Bahr. “For once in my life I am ashamed of myself because I cannot do this instead of you. Not a mature attitude, but I can’t help it.”

  “Good luck,” said Yuruzh. “Don’t forget my instructions.”

  Althea waded into the water. The surf was light. A wave slapped Althea amidships, and then she stretched herself out and swam. The water was pleasant, not quite soupily warm, but not cool enough to sap the strength.

  Althea hoped that no gvám or other sea monster lurked in the vicinity. Knowing the distance that she had to cover, she took her time and varied her stroke. As she rose to the tops of the low swells, she glimpsed the fleet of Darya ahead. Behind, the beach and the two Zao galleys receded. Ahead, much more swiftly, the hostile fleet approached.

  IX

  “Well?” said the Dasht of Darya.

  The lord of the isle of Darya, the two mammillary peaks known throughout the lands of the Triple Seas, stood in his gold-chased armor on the stern of the big, flush-decked quadrireme that was his flagship. Althea, dripping on the planks, stood before him, her hair plastered to her head. On each side of her, a grease-clad Daryau gripped one of her arms in both his hands.

  Althea, with much fumbling for the right word, told her tale.

  “Ohé!” said Dasht with a sweeping gesture. “ ’Tis indeed a tale fraught with ponderable interest, be it true or false. But that, my Terran drabby, we’ll ascertain in pudding time. Ao, Mirán! Bind this exotic being to your mizzenmast—not so tightly as to harm her alien flesh, yet not so loosely as to afford a chance for the mammet’s escape. Then stand ye with bared brand nigh unto her, and if it transpire that she into disaster’s maw doth lead us, smite off her mazzard!”

  The Dasht raised his voice to a shout: “Now signal to my captains brave to form line abreast of all ships of bireme or higher rate and pull for the Zeshtan shore, as Qarar’s crew pulled for Fossanderan when they fled from the Witch of the Va’andao Sea! Eftsoons, rascallions! Jump it yarely, lest the proudest prize slip from our laggard digits!”

  The voice of the Dasht had risen to a scream. With the last phrase he swept out his jewel-hilted sword, whirled it around his head, stamped his boots on the deck, and pointed shoreward with the blade.

  The Daryava holding Althea tied her to the mast. One of them drew his sword and stood by, his body grease glistening. The sun shone down hotly on the bare deck, now that the sails had been furled for action. The Daryau kept running his eyes up and down Althea’s body and feeling his edge with his thumb.

  The fleet shook itself out into formation. The larger ships formed a rank in front, the smaller ones behind. Signal pennons flapped at mastheads. The bong of the coxswains’ gongs came over the water to mingle with the flagship’s own, as the rowers dug in.

  Facing forward, Althea watched the shore creep slowly nearer. The Dasht and his gilded officers clustered on the bow, while sailors prepared rope ladders ready to unroll. Others piled weapons for use by the rowers.

  The sterns of the two Zao ships became plainer. The beach, which had swarmed when Althea started out, seemed empty. She looked uneasily at the Daryau beside her. This was a complication that Yuruzh, for all his apparent brilliance, had not thought of. Or had he? As Bahr had said, Yuruzh was a devilishly intelligent fellow.

  Thump, swish, thump, swish went the oars. The shore, which had seemed to approach so slowly, now fast opened out . . .

  Crash!

  The flagship shuddered, lurched, and heeled. The cluster of notabilities in the bow fell sprawling; a splash told of the fate of at least one. Oarsmen half-fell from their benches or were knocked off by the looms of their oars.

  In an instant, the flagship was a screaming chaos. Krishnans crawled over one another, scrambled to their feet, and bawled commands. Through the yells, Althea heard a grinding, crunching, tearing, and crackling of riven timbers and a gurgle of inrushing water. Yuruzh, she thought, must have somehow lured the ship on a submerged rock. All forward motion had ceased.

  The second after the ship had struck, Mirán, the Daryau guarding Althea, uttered a loud cry and swung his sword at her slender neck, but the ship’s lurch sent him staggering. The blade whistled harmlessly, and Mirán disappeared in the general confusion.

  At the same time, a succession of crashes and outcries from the other ships told that they, also, had met disaster.

  The volume of cries redoubled. Up the oars and over the sides of the flagship swarmed Yuruzh’s tailed men with weapons. They had a curiously masked appearance, and it took Althea an instant to realize that they were wearing a kind of respirator or diving mask, attached to a small airbag strapped to their backs. They swarmed down among the Daryava. Steel clanged and clashed.

  As the flagship settled, the Dasht of Darya appeared, pushing and fighting his way aft. He clutched at rails, masts, and other objects with his free hand, to steady himself on the slanting deck.

  When he sighted Althea, the ruler of Darya shifted his grip on his sword, screamed an unintelligible sentence, and stamped toward her. With teeth bared and foam drooling from his lips, the Dasht caught her hair with his free hand, pulled her head back, and swung the sword at her throat.

  Plunk!

  A hoarse, gargling screech came from the Dasht. Althea, who had closed her eyes in expectation of the fatal stroke, opened them again. An arrow had passed through the Krishnan’s face, in through the angle between neck and jaw, and out through the cheek on the opposite side. The Dasht dropped his sword and reeled to the rail, clutching the shaft and trying to scream orders from his mangled mouth.

  Althea glanced forward to see Yuruzh, bow in hand, run aft toward her.
First the Zau chief struck the Dasht across the face with the bow stave, knocking him to the deck. His face was a mask of brownish blood, through which breath and fragments of teeth bubbled. Then Yuruzh drew his own sword and cut Althea’s bonds.

  “Over the side and swim ashore!” he shouted, then ran forward again toward the mainmast.

  A Daryau tried to stop him. Yuruzh leaped into the air and struck. The Krishnan’s head flew off and rolled down the deck, while the spouting body collapsed. Racing on, Yuruzh cut the halyards that held the personal flag of the Dasht to the head of the mainmast and gave a mighty tug to one free end. The rope ran through the block. The flag fluttered out and down falling over the side.

  A new din from seaward caused Althea to look around. There was the fleet of Zá swarming out from its own island, bearing down upon the smaller Daryao ships, which, by furious backing on their oars, had managed to avoid running into the larger ships when the latter had struck.

  The fight on the flagship subsided. Some Daryava had surrendered, kneeling with outstretched arms. Others were leaping over the side as the tailed men chased them about the deck with bloody blades. Yuruzh, spattered with blue-green Krishnan blood, ran back to where Althea still stood.

  “Thought I said to jump over?” he panted. “But it doesn’t matter now the ship’s ours. Wait here; I still have the rest to take.”

  “Let me do something!” said Althea.

  “Fine.” Yuruzh snatched a battle ax from the deck and pressed it into Althea’s hand. “Help guard these prisoners. The minute one makes a suspicious move, split his skull.”

  Yelling in his own tongue to the other tailed men, he rallied them to the rail, all but the few told to bind and guard prisoners. At his signal, they all dove over in a wave and struck out for the next ship, swimming like otters. Meanwhile a ship from Zá, abandoning its chase of the fleeing smaller ships of Darya, turned and drove its beak into the stern of another stranded Daryao galley with a rending crash . . .