Such a thought flashed through his head as he ran towards the prison wells. At the same time he heard the horn-blasts of the king’s mucketeers and knew that he shortly would have a different type of Man to deal with. The mucketeers, closest approach to soldiers in this pacifistic land, wore Skins that conditioned them to be more belligerent than the common citizen. They carried epees and, while it was true that their points were dull and their wielders had never engaged in serious swordsmanship, the mucketeers could be dangerous because of numbers alone.
Mapfarity bellowed, “Jean-Jacques, what are you doing?”
He called back over his. shoulder, “I’m taking Lusine with us! She can help us get the Earthman from the Amphibians!”
The Giant lumbered up behind him, threw a rope down to the eager hands of Lusine, and pulled her up without effort to the top of the well. A second later, Rastignac leaped upon Mapfarity’s back, dug his hands under the upper fringe of the huge Skin and, ignoring its electrical blasts, ripped downwards.
Mapfarity cried out with shock and surprise as his skin flopped on the stones like a devilfish on dry land.
Archambaud ran up then and, without bothering to explain, the Ssassaror and the Man seized him and peeled off his artificial hide.
“Now we’re all free men!” panted Rastignac. “And the mucketeers have no way of locating us if we hide, nor can they punish us with shocks.”
He put the Giant on his right side, Lusine on his left, and the egg-stealer behind him. He removed the Jail-breaker’s rapier from his sheath. The official was too astonished to protest.
“Law, m’zawfa!” cried Rastignac, parodying in his grotesque French the old Gallic war cry of “Allons, mes enfants!”
The King’s official came to life and screamed orders at the group of mucketeers who had poured into the courtyard. They halted in confusion. They could not hear him above the roar of horns and thunder of drums and the people sticking their heads out of windows and shouting.
Rastignac scooped up with his epee one of the abandoned Skins flopping on the floor and threw it at the foremost guard. It descended upon the man’s head, knocking off his hat and wrapping itself around the head and shoulders. The guard dropped his sword and staggered backwards into the group. At the same time, the escapees charged and bowled over their feeble opposition.
It was here that Rastignac drew first blood. The tip of his epee drove past a bewildered mucketeer’s blade and entered the fellow’s throat just below the chin. It did not penetrate very far because of the dullness of the point. Nevertheless, when Rastignac withdrew his sword, he saw blood spurt.
It was the first flower of violence, this scarlet blossom set against the whiteness of a Man’s skin.
It would, if he had worn his Skin, have sickened him. Now, he exulted with a shout of triumph.
Lusine swooped up from behind him, bent over the fallen man. Her fingers dipped into the blood and went to her mouth. Greedily, she sucked her fingers.
Rastignac struck her cheek hard with the flat of his hand. She staggered back, her eyes narrow, but she laughed.
The next moments were busy as they entered the castle, knocked down two mucketeers who tried to prevent their passage to the Duke’s rooms, then filed across the long suite.
The Duke rose from his writing-desk to greet them. Rastignac, determined to sever all ties and impress the government with the fact that he meant a real violence, snarled at his benefactor, “Va t’feh fout!”
The Duke was disconcerted at .this harsh command, so obviously impossible to carry out. He blinked and said nothing. The escapees hurried past him to the door that gave exit to the outside. They pushed it open and stepped out into the car that waited for them. A chauffeur leaned against its thin wooden body.
Mapfarity pushed him aside and climbed in. The others followed. Rastignac was the last to get in. He examined in a glance the vehicle they were supposed to make their flight in.
It was as good a car as you could find in the realm. A Renault of the large class, it had a long boat-shaped scarlet body. There wasn’t a scratch on it. It had seats for six. And that it had the power to outrun most anything was indicated by the two extra pairs of legs sticking out from the bottom. There were twelve pairs of legs, equine in form and shod with the best steel. It was the kind of vehicle you wanted when you might have to take off across the country. Wheeled cars could go faster on the highway, but this Renault would not be daunted by water, plowed fields, or steep hillsides.
Rastignac climbed into the driver’s seat, seized the wheel, and pressed his foot down on the accelerator. The nerve-spot beneath the pedal sent a message to the muscles hidden beneath the hood and the legs projecting from the body. The Renault lurched forward, steadied, and began to pick up speed. It entered a broad paved highway. Hooves drummed; sparks shot out from the steel shoes.
Rastignac guided -the brainless, blind creature concealed within the body. He was helped by the somatically-generated radar it employed to steer it past obstacles. When he came to the Rue des Nues, he slowed it down to a trot. There was no use tiring it out. Halfway up the gentle slope of the boulevard, however, a Ford galloped out from a side-street. Its seats bristled with tall peaked hats with outspread glowworm wings and with drawn epees.
Rastignac shoved the accelerator to the floor. The Renault broke into a gallop. The Ford turned so that it would present its broad side. As there was a fencework of tall shrubbery growing along the boulevard, the Ford was thus able to block most of the passage.
But, just before his vehicle reached the Ford, Rastignac pressed the Jump button. Few cars had this; only sportsmen or the royalty could afford to have such a neural circuit installed. And it did not allow for gradations in leaping. It was an all-or-none reaction; the legs spurned the ground in perfect unison and with every bit of the power in them. There was no holding back.
The nose lifted, the Renault soared into the air. There was a shout, a slight swaying as the trailing hooves struck the heads of mucketeers who had been stupid enough not to duck, and the vehicle landed with a screeching lurch, upright, on the other side of the Ford. Nor did it pause.
Half an hour later Rastignac reined in the car under a large tree whose shadow protected them. “We’re well out in the country,” he said.
“What do we do now?” asked impatient Archambaud.
“First we must know more about this Earthman,” Rastignac answered. “Then we can decide.”
VII
Dawn broke through night’s guard and spilled a crimson swath on the hills to the East, and the Six Flying Stars faded from sight like a necklace of glowing jewels dipped into an ink bottle.
Rastignac halted the weary Renault on the top of a hill, looked down over the landscape spread out for miles below him. Mapfarity’s castle—a tall rose-colored tower of flying buttresses—flashed in the rising sun. It stood on another hill by the sea shore. The country around was a madman’s dream of color. Yet to Rastignac every hue sickened the eye. That bright green, for instance, was poisonous; that flaming scarlet was bloody; that pale yellow, rheumy; that velvet black, funereal; that pure white, maggotty.
“Rastignac!” It was Mapfarity’s bass, strumming irritation deep in his chest.
“What?”
“What do we do now?”
Jean-Jacques was silent. Archambaud spoke plaintively.
“I’m not used to going without my Skin. There are things I miss. For one thing, I don’t know what you’re thinking, Jean-Jacques. I don’t know whether you’re angry at me or love me or are indifferent to me. I don’t know where other people are. I don’t feel the joy of the little animals playing, the freedom of the flight of the birds, the ghostly plucking of the growing grass, the sweet stab of the mating lust of the wild-horned apigator, the humming of bees working to build a hive, and the sleepy stupid arrogance of the giant cabbage-eating duexnez. I can feel nothing without the Skin I have worn so long. I feel alone.”
Rastignac replied, “You are not a
lone. I am with you.”
Lusine spoke in a low voice, her large brown eyes upon his.
“I, too, feel alone. My Skin is gone, the Skin by which I knew how to act according to the wisdom of my father, the Amphib King. Now that it is gone and I cannot hear his voice the vibrating tympanum, I do not know what to do.”
“At present,” replied Rastignac, “you will do as I tell you.”
Mapfarity repeated, “What now?”
Rastignac became brisk. He said, “We go to your castle, Giant. We use your smithy to put sharp points on our swords, points to slide through a man’s body from front to back. Don’t pale! That is what we must do. And then we pick up your goose that lays the golden eggs, for we must have money if we are to act efficiently. After that, we buy—or steal—a boat and we go to wherever the Earthman is held captive. And we rescue him.”
“And then?” said Lusine, her eyes shining.
“What you do then will be up to you. But I am going to leave this planet and voyage with the Earthman to other worlds.”
Silence. Then Mapfarity said, “Why leave here?”
“Because there is no hope for this land. Nobody will give up his Skin. Le Beau Pays is doomed to a lotus-life. And that is not for me.”
Archambaud jerked a thumb at the Amphib girl. “What about her people?”
“They may win, the water-people. What’s the difference? It will be just the exchange of one Skin for another. Before I heard of the landing of the Earthman I was going to fight no matter what the cost to me or inevitable defeat. But not now.”
Mapfarity’s rumble was angry. “Ah, Jean-Jacques, this is not my comrade talking. Are you sure you haven’t swallowed your Skin? You talk as if you were inside-out. What is the matter with your brain? Can’t you see that it will indeed make a difference if the Amphibs get the upper hand? Can’t you see who is making the Amphibs behave the way they have been?”
Rastignac urged the Renault towards the rose-colored lacy castle high upon a hill. The vehicle trotted tiredly along the rough and narrow forest path.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“I mean the Amphibs got along fine with the Ssassaror until a new element entered their lives—the Earthmen. Then the antagonizing began. What is this new element? It’s the Changelings—the mixture of Earthmen and Amphibs or Ssassaror and Terran. Add it up.
Turn it around. Look at it from any angle. It is the Changelings who are behind this restlessness—the Human element.
“Another thing. The Amphibs have always had Skins different from ours. Our factories create our Skins to set up an affinity and communication between their wearers and all of Nature. They are designed to make it easier for every Man to love his neighbor.
“Now, the strange thing about the Amphibs’ Skin is that they, too, were once designed to do such things. But in the past thirty or forty years new Skins have been created for one primary purpose—to establish a communication between the Sea-King and his subjects. Not only that, the Skins can be operated at long distances so that the King may punish any disobedient subject. And they are set so that they establish affinity only among the Waterfolk, not between them and all of Nature.”
“I had gathered some of that during my conversations with Lusine,” said Rastignac. “But I did not know it had gone to such lengths.”
“Yes, and you may safely bet that the Changelings are behind it.”
“Then it is the human element that is corrupting?”
“What else?”
Rastignac said, “Lusine, what do you say to this?”
“I think it is best that you leave this world. Or else turn Changeling-Amphib.”
“Why should I join you Amphibians?”
“A man like you could become a Sea-King.”
“And drink blood?”
“I would rather drink blood than mate with a Man. Almost, that is. But I would make an exception with you, Jean-Jacques.”
If it had been a Land-woman who made such a blunt proposal he would have listened with equanimity. There was no modesty, false or otherwise, in the country of the Skin-wearers. But to hear such a thing from a woman whose mouth had drunk the blood of a living man filled him with disgust.
Yet, he had to admit Lusine was beautiful. If she had not been a blood-drinker . . .
Though he lacked his receptive Skin, Mapfarity seemed to sense Rastignac’s emotions. He said, “You must not blame her too much, Jean-Jacques. Sea-changelings are conditioned from babyhood to love blood. And for a very definite purpose, too, unnatural though it is. When the time comes for hordes of Changelings to sweep out of the sea and overwhelm the Landfolk, they will have no compunctions about cutting the throats of their fellow-creatures.”
Lusine laughed. The rest of them shifted uneasily but did not comment. Rastignac changed the subject.
“How did you find out about the Earthman, Mapfarity?” he said.
The Ssassaror smiled. Two long yellow canines shone wetly; the nose, which had nostrils set in the sides, gaped open; blue sparks shot out from it; at the same time, the feathered ears stiffened and crackled with red-and-blue sparks.
“I have been doing something besides breeding geese to lay golden eggs,” he said. “I have set traps for Waterfolk, and I have caught two. These I caged in a dungeon in my castle, and I experimented with them. I removed their Skins and put them on me, and I found out many interesting facts.”
He leered at Lusine, who was no longer laughing, and he said, “For instance, I discovered that the Sea-king can locate, talk to, and punish any of his subjects anywhere in the sea or along the coast. He has booster Skins planted all over his realm so that any message he sends will reach the receiver, no matter how far away he is. Moreover, he has conditioned each and every Skin so that, by uttering a certain codeword to which only one particular Skin will respond, he may stimulate it to shock or even to kill its carrier.”
Mapfarity continued, “I analyzed those two Skins in my lab and then, using them as models, made a number of duplicates in my fleshforge. They lacked only the nerves that would enable the Sea-King to shock us.”
Rastignac smiled his appreciation of this coup. Mapfarity’s ears crackled blue sparks of joy, his equivalent of blushing.
“Ah, then you have doubtless listened in to many broadcasts. And you know where the Earthman is located?”
“Yes,” said the Giant. “He is in the palace of the Amphib King, upon the island of Kataproimnoin. That is only thirty miles out to the sea.
Rastignac did not know what he would do, but he had two advantages in the Amphibs’ Skins and in Lusine. And he burned to get off this doomed planet, this land of men too sunk in false happiness, sloth, and stupidity to see that soon death would come from the water.
He had two possible avenues of escape. One was to use the newly arrived Earthman’s knowledge so that the fuels necessary to propel the ferry-rockets could be manufactured. The rockets themselves still stood in a museum. Rastignac had not planned to use them because neither he nor any one else on this planet knew how to make fuel for them. Such secrets had long ago been forgotten.
But now that science was available through the newcomer from Earth, the rockets could be equipped and taken up to one of the Six Flying Stars. The Earthman could study the rocket, determine what was needed in the way of supplies, then it could be outfitted for the long voyage.
An alternative was the Terran’s vessel. Perhaps he might invite him to come along in it. . .
The huge gateway to Mapfarity’s castle interrupted his thoughts.
VIII
He halted the Renault, told Archambaud to find the Giant’s servant and have him feed their vehicle, rub its legs down with liniment, and examine the hooves for defective shoes.
Archambaud was glad to look up Mapfabvisheen, the Giant’s servant, because he had not seen him for a long time. The little Ssassaror had been an active member of the Egg-stealer’s Guild until the night three years ago when he had tried to creep into Mapfa
rity’s strongroom. The crafty guilds-man had avoided the Giant’s traps and there found the two geese squatting upon their bed of minerals.
These fabulous geese made no sound when he picked them up with lead-lined gloves and put them in his bag, also lined with lead-leaf. They were not even aware of him. Laboratory-bred, retort-shaped, their protoplasm a blend of silicon-carbon, unconscious even that they lived, they munched upon lead and other elements, ruminated, gastrated, transmuted, and every month, regular as the clockwork march of stars or whirl of electrons, each laid an octagonal egg of pure gold.
Mapfabvisheen had trodden softly from the strongroom and thought himself safe. And then, amazingly, frighteningly, and totally unethically, from his viewpoint, the geese had begun honking loudly!
He had run but not fast enough. The Giant had come stumbling from his bed in response to the wild clamor and had caught him. And, according to the contract drawn up between the Guild of Egg-stealers and the League of Giants, a guildsman seized within the precincts of a castle must serve the goose’s owner for two years. Mapfabvisheen had been greedy; he had tried to take both geese. Therefore, he must wait upon the Giant for a double term.
Afterwards, he found out how he’d been trapped. The egg-layers themselves hadn’t been honking. Mouthless, they were utterly incapable of that. Mapfarity had fastened a so-called “goose-tracker” to the strongroom’s doorway. This device clicked loudly whenever a goose was nearby. It could smell out one even through a lead-leaf-lined bag. When Mapfabvisheen passed underneath it, its clicks woke up a small Skin beside it. The Skin, mostly lung-sac and voice organs, honked its warning. And the dwarf, Mapfabvisheen, began his servitude to the Giant, Mapfarity.
Rastignac knew the story. He also knew that Mapfarity had infected the fellow with the philosophy of Violence and that he was now a good member of his Underground. He was eager to tell him his servitor days were over, that he could now take his place in their band as an equal. Subject, of course, to Rastignac’s order.
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