by Andre Norton
Chapter V
THE PERILOUS SEAS
The gorp hunters straggled through the grass forest in family groups, andthe Terrans saw that the enterprise had forced another uneasy truce uponthe district, for there were representatives from more than just Paft'sown clan. All the Salariki were young and the parties babbled together inexcitement. It was plain that this hunt, staged upon a large scale, wasnot only a means of revenge upon a hated enemy but, also, a sportingevent of outstanding prestige.
Now the grass trees began to show ragged gaps, open spaces between theirclumps, until the forest was only scattered groups and the party theTerrans had joined walked along a trail cloaked in knee-high, yellow-redfern growth. Most of the Salariki carried unlit torches, some having fouror five bundled together, as if gorp hunting must be done afternightfall. And it _was_ fairly late in the afternoon before they topped arise of ground and looked out upon one of Sargol's seas.
The water was a dull-metallic gray, broken by great swaths of purple asif an artist had slapped a brush of color across it in a hit or missfashion. Sand of the red grit, lightened by the golden flecks whichglittered in the sun, stretched to the edge of the wavelets breaking withonly languor on the curve of earth. The bulk of islands arose in serriedranks farther out--crowned with grass trees all rippling under the seawind.
They came out upon the beach where one of the purple patches touched theshore and Dane noted that it left a scummy deposit there. The Terranswent on to the water's edge. Where it was clear of the purple stuff theycould get a murky glimpse of the bottom, but the scum hid long stretchesof shoreline and outer wave, and Dane wondered if the gorp used it as aprotective covering.
For the moment the Salariki made no move toward the sea which was to betheir hunting ground. Instead the youngest members of the party, some ofwhom were adolescents not yet entitled to wear the claw knife of manhood,spread out along the shore and set industriously to gathering driftwood,which they brought back to heap on the sand. Dane, watching that harvest,caught sight of a smoothly polished length. He called Weeks' attentionto the water rounded cylinder.
The oiler's eyes lighted and he stooped to pick it up. Where the othersticks were from grass trees this was something else. And among thebleached pile it had the vividness of flame. For it was a stridentscarlet. Weeks turned it over in his hands, running his fingers lovinglyacross its perfect grain. Even in this crude state it had beauty. Hestopped the Salarik who had just brought in another armload of wood.
"This is what?" he spoke the Trade Lingo haltingly.
The native gazed somewhat indifferently at the branch. "Tansil," heanswered. "It grows on the islands--" He made a vague gesture to includea good section of the western sea before he hurried away.
Weeks now went along the tide line on his own quest, Dane trailing him.At the end of a quarter hour when a hail summoned them back to the siteof the now lighted fire, they had some ten pieces of the tansil woodbetween them. The finds ranged from a three foot section some fourinches in diameter, to some slender twigs no larger than a writingsteelo--but all with high polish, the warm flame coloring. Weeks lashedthem together before he joined the group where Groft was outlining thetechnique of gorp hunting for the benefit of the Terrans.
Some two hundred feet away a reef, often awash and stained with thepurple scum, angled out into the sea in a long curve which formed anatural breakwater. This was the point of attack. But first the purplefilm must be removed so that land and sea dwellers could meet on commonterms.
The fire blazed up, eating hungrily into the driftwood. And from it ranthe young Salariki with lighted brands, which at the water's edge theywhirled about their heads and then hurled out onto the purple patches.Fire arose from the water and ran with frantic speed across the crests ofthe low waves, while the Salariki coughed and buried their noses in theirperfume boxes, for the wind drove shoreward an overpowering stench.
Where the cleansing fire had run on the water there was now only thenatural metallic gray of the liquid, the cover was gone. Older Salarikiwarriors were choosing torches from those they had brought, doing it withcare. Groft approached the Terrans carrying four.
"These you use now--"
What for? Dane wondered. The sky was still sunlit. He held the torchwatching to see how the Salariki made use of them.
Groft led the advance--running lightly out along the reef with agile andgraceful leaps to cross the breaks where the sea hurled in over the rock.And after him followed the other natives, each with a lighted torch inhand--the torch they hunkered down to plant firmly in some crevice of therock before taking a stand beside that beacon.
The Terrans, less surefooted in the space boots, picked their way alongthe same path, wet with spray, wrinkling their noses against thelingering puffs of the stench from the water.
Following the example of the Salariki they faced seaward--but Dane didnot know what to watch for. Cam had left only the vaguest generaldescriptions of gorp and beyond the fact that they were reptilian,intelligent and dangerous, the Terrans had not been briefed.
Once the warriors had taken up their stand along the reef, the youngerSalariki went into action once more. Lighting more torches at the fire,they ran out along the line of their elders and flung their torches asfar as they could hurl them into the sea outside the reef.
The gray steel of the water was now yellow with the reflection of thesinking sun. But that ocher and gold became more brilliant yet as thetorches of the Salariki set blazing up far floating patches of scum. Daneshielded his eyes against the glare and tried to watch the water, withsome idea that this move must be provocation and what they hunted wouldso be driven into view.
He held his sleep rod ready, just as the Salarik on his right had clawknife in one hand and in the other, open and waiting, the net intended toentangle and hold fast a victim, binding him for the kill.
But it was at the far tip of the barrier--the post of greatest honorwhich Groft had jealously claimed as his, that the gorp struck first. Ata wild shout of defiance Dane half turned to see the Salarik noble casthis net at sea level and then stab viciously with a well practiced blow.When he raised his arm for a second thrust, greenish ichor ran from theblade down his wrist.
"Dane!"
Thorson's head jerked around. He saw the vee of ripples headed straightfor the rocks where he balanced.
But he'd have to wait for a better target than a moving wedge of water.Instinctively he half crouched in the stance of an embattled spaceman,wishing now that he did have a blaster.
Neither of the Salariki stationed on either side of him made any move andhe guessed that was hunt etiquette. Each man was supposed to face andkill the monster that challenged him--without assistance. And upon hisskill during the next few minutes might rest the reputation of allTerrans as far as the natives were concerned.
There was a shadow outline beneath the surface of the metallic water now,but he could not see well because of the distortion of the murky waves.He must wait until he was sure.
Then the thing gave a spurt and, only inches beyond the toes of hisboots, a nightmare creature sprang halfway out of the water, pincherclaws as long as his own arms snapping at him. Without being conscious ofhis act, he pressed the stud of the sleep rod, aiming in the generaldirection of that horror from the sea.
But to his utter amazement the creature did not fall supinely back intowatery world from which it had emerged. Instead those claws snappedagain, this time scrapping across the top of Dane's foot, leaving afurrow in material the keenest of knives could not have scored.
"Give it to him!" That was Rip shouting encouragement from his own placefarther along the reef.
Dane pressed the firing stud again and again. The claws waved as themonstrosity slavered from a gaping frog's mouth, a mouth which was fangedwith a shark's vicious teeth. It was almost wholly out of the water,creeping on a crab's many legs, with a clawed upper limb reaching forhim, when suddenly it stopped, its huge head turning from side to side inthe sheltering carapac
e of scaled natural armor. It settled back as ifcrouching for a final spring--a spring which would push Dane into theocean.
But that attack never came. Instead the gorp drew in upon itself until itresembled an unwieldy ball of indestructible armor and there it remained.
The Salariki on either side of Dane let out cries of triumph and edgedcloser. One of them twirled his net suggestively, seeing that the Terranlacked what was to him an essential piece of hunting equipment. Danenodded vigorously in agreement and the tough strands swung out in askillful cast which engulfed the motionless creature on the reef. But itwas so protected by its scales that there was no opening for the clawknife. They had made a capture but they could not make a kill.
However, the Salariki were highly delighted. And several abandoned theirposts to help the boys drag the monster ashore where it was pinned downto the beach by stakes driven through the edges of the net.
But the hunting party was given little time to gloat over this stroke offortune. The gorp killed by Groft and the one stunned by Dane were onlythe van of an army and within moments the hunters on the reef wereconfronted by trouble armed with slashing claws and diabolic fightingability.
The battle was anything but one-sided. Dane whirled, as the air was rentby a shriek of agony, just in time to see one of the Salariki, alreadytorn by the claws of a gorp, being drawn under the water. It was too lateto save the hunter, though Dane, balanced on the very edge of the reef,aimed a beam into the bloody waves. If the gorp was affected by thisattack he could not tell, for both attacker and victim could no longer beseen.
But Ali had better luck in rescuing the Salarik who shared his particularsection of reef, and the native, gashed and spurting blood from a woundin his thigh, was hauled to safety. While the gorp, coiling too slowlyunder the Terran ray, was literally hewn to pieces by the revengefulknives of the hunter's kin.
The fight broke into a series of individual duels carried on now by thelight of the torches as the evening closed in. The last of the purplepatches had burned away to nothing. Dane crouched by his standard torch,his eyes fastened on the sea, watching for an ominous vee of ripplesbetraying another gorp on its way to launch against the rock barrier.
There was such wild confusion along that line of water sprayed rocksthat he had no idea of how the engagement was going. But so far thegorp showed no signs of having had enough.
Dane was shaken out of his absorption by another scream. One, he wassure, which had not come from any Salariki throat. He got to hisfeet. Rip was stationed four men beyond him. Yes, the tallAstrogator-apprentice was there, outlined against torch flare. Ali?No--there was the assistant Engineer. Weeks? But Weeks was picking hisway back along the reef toward the shore, haste expressed in every lineof his figure. The scream sounded for a second time, freezing theTerrans.
"Come back--!" That was Weeks gesturing violently at the shore andsomething floundering in the protecting circle of the reef. The youngerSalariki who had been feeding the fire were now clustered at the water'sedge.
Ali ran and with a leap covered the last few feet, landing reckless kneedeep in the waves. Dane saw light strike on his rod as he swung it in awide arc to center on the struggle churning the water into foam. A thirdscream died to a moan and then the Salariki dashed into the sea, theirnets spread, drawing back with them through the surf a dark and now quietmass.
The fact that at least one gorp had managed to get on the inner side ofthe reef made an impression on the rest of the native hunters. After anuncertain minute or two Groft gave the signal to withdraw--which they didwith grisly trophies. Dane counted seven gorp bodies--which did notinclude the prisoner ashore. And more might have slid into the sea todie. On the other hand two Salariki were dead--one had been drawn intothe sea before Dane's eyes--and at least one was badly wounded. But whohad been pulled down in the shallows--some one sent out from the Queenwith a message?
Dane raced back along the reef, not waiting to pull up his torch, andbefore he reached the shore Rip was overtaking him. But the man who laygroaning on the sand was not from the Queen. The torn and bloodstainedtunic covering his lacerated shoulders had the I-S badge. Ali was alreadyat work on his wounds, giving temporary first aid from his belt kit. Toall their questions he was stubbornly silent--either he couldn't orwouldn't answer.
In the end they helped the Salariki rig three stretchers. On one thelargest, the captive gorp, still curled in a round carapace protectedball, was bound with the net. The second supported the wounded Salarikclansman and onto the third the Terrans lifted the I-S man.
"We'll deliver him to his own ship," Rip decided. "He must have tailed ushere as a spy--" He asked a passing Salarik as to where they could findthe Company spacer.
"They might just think we are responsible," Ali pointed out. "But I seeyour point. If we do pack him back to the Queen and he doesn't make it,they might say that we fired his rockets for him. All right, boys, let'sup-ship--he doesn't look too good to me."
With a torch-bearing Salarik boy as a guide, they hurried along a pathtaking in turns the burden of the stretcher. Luckily the I-S ship waseven closer to the sea than the Queen and as they crossed the slaggedground, congealed by the break fire, they were trotting.
Though the Company ship was probably one of the smallest Inter-Solarcarried on her rosters, it was a third again as large as the Queen--withpart of that third undoubtedly dedicated to extra cargo space. Beside hertheir own spacer would seem not only smaller, but battered and worn. Butno Free Trader would have willingly assumed the badges of a Company man,not even for the command of such a ship fresh from the cradles of abuilder.
When a man went up from the training Pool for his first assignment, hewas sent to the ship where his temperament, training and abilities bestfitted. And those who were designated as Free Traders would never fitinto the pattern of Company men. Of late years the breech between thosewho lived under the strict parental control of one of the five greatgalaxy wide organizations and those still too much of an individual tolive any life but that of a half-explorer-half-pioneer which was the FreeTrader's, had widened alarmingly. Antagonism flared, rivalry was strong.But as yet the great Companies themselves were at polite cold war withone another for the big plums of the scattered systems. The Free Traderstook the crumbs and there was not much disputing--save in cases such ashad arisen on Sargol, when suddenly crumbs assumed the guise of very richcake, rich and large enough to attract a giant.
The party from the Queen was given a peremptory challenge as they reachedthe other ship's ramp. Rip demanded to see the officer of the watch andthen told the story of the wounded man as far as they knew it. The Eysiewas hurried aboard--nor did his shipmates give a word of thanks.
"That's that." Rip shrugged. "Let's go before they slam the hatch so hardthey'll rock their ship off her fins!"
"Polite, aren't they?" asked Weeks mildly.
"What do you expect of Eysies?" Ali wanted to know. "To them Free Tradersare just rim planet trash. Let's report back where we are appreciated."
They took a short cut which brought them back to the Queen and they filedup her ramp to make their report to the Captain.
But they were not yet satisfied with Groft and his gorp slayers. NoSalarik appeared for trade in the morning--surprising the Terrans.Instead a second delegation, this time of older men and a storm priest,visited the spacer with an invitation to attend Paft's funeral feast, arite which would be followed by the formal elevation of Groft to hisfather's position, now that he had revenged that parent. And from remarksdropped by members of the delegation it was plain that the bearing of theTerrans who had joined the hunting party was esteemed to have been inhighest accord with Salariki tradition.
They drew lots to decide which two must remain with the ship and the restperfumed themselves so as to give no offense which might upset their nowcordial relations. Again it was mid-afternoon when the Salariki escortsent to do them honor waited at the edge of the wood and Mura and Tangsaw them off. With a herald booming before them, they tra
veled the beatenearth road in the opposite direction from the trading center, off throughthe forest until they came to a wide section of several miles which hadbeen rigorously cleared of any vegetation which might give cover to alurking enemy. In the center of this was a twelve-foot-high stockade ofthe bright red, burnished wood which had attracted Weeks on the shore.Each paling was the trunk of a tree and it had been sharpened at the topto a wicked point. On the field side was a wide ditch, crossed at thegate by a bridge, the planking of which might be removed at will. And asDane passed over he looked down into the moat that was dry. The Salarikidid not depend upon water for a defense--but on something else which hisexperience of the previous night had taught him to respect. There was nomistaking that shade of purple. The highly inflammable scum the huntershad burnt from the top of the waves had been brought inland and lay agreasy blanket some eight feet below. It would only be necessary to tossa torch on that and the defenders of the stockade would create a wall offire to baffle any attackers. The Salariki knew how to make the most oftheir world's natural resources.