"Your boat is well fueled and provisioned?"

"We acquire all necessities en route. The jungle, Madame, may be viewed as the wise man's treasure trove."

"What about the boat herself? Recently inspected? In good repair? Sound and riverworthy?"

"As worthy as a pious widow struggling to support her eight hungry children. As worthy as an itinerant holy man washing the feet of the poor. As worthy as-"

"And the crew?"

"Consists of the captain and a stoker."

"That's all? You have no mate? No other a.s.sistance?"

"And require none, Jhiv-Huze is proud to say. Look on the bright side, Madame-he always does. In the absence of a crew, your privacy is a.s.sured. May he a.s.sume that you have elected to travel downriver alone?"

"Alone?" She hesitated. His pinpoint pupils dotted richly bloodshot eyes whose brilliant vitreous sheen suddenly unnerved her. She pictured herself aboard a boat on the wide Ygah at night, alone with this outlandish character, a stoker, and a hold full of marukinutu. marukinutu. Every instinct screamed a warning. She couldn't afford cowardice, not if she wanted to win, and she did carry the pocket pistol, but nevertheless- Every instinct screamed a warning. She couldn't afford cowardice, not if she wanted to win, and she did carry the pocket pistol, but nevertheless- "Madame travels in my company," announced the voice of Girays v'Alisante.

She turned to find him right behind her, and the rush of relief actually brought a couple of tears to her eyes. She blinked them away and prayed that he had not seen. He would have every right to mock her without mercy. On the other hand, she reminded herself stoutly, she would would have gone ahead and traveled alone if necessary. She would have slept fully dressed, with the Khrennisov under her pillow-a.s.suming that she had a pillow-but she would indeed have gone ahead, alone. have gone ahead and traveled alone if necessary. She would have slept fully dressed, with the Khrennisov under her pillow-a.s.suming that she had a pillow-but she would indeed have gone ahead, alone.

"Decided to come along, then?" she inquired with a creditable affectation of nonchalance.

"I've had enough of wandering the wharf," he told her easily. "And so I've decided to take a chance on Jhiv-Huze here."

"Excellent." The captain nodded. "Excellent. Jhiv-Huze congratulates you, sir. You and Madame may antic.i.p.ate a memorable journey."

"No doubt. Then lead us to your vessel, Captain."

"With the greatest of pride and pleasure. You will be astonished. This way."

He led them along the wharf to a stand of worm-eaten pilings, blue-green with algae, home to an a.s.sortment of disintegrating derelicts seemingly abandoned to rot in peace.

"There she is. Jhiv-Huze's pride, his beauty, his delight." The captain's broad gesture encompa.s.sed a filthy, rusty, antiquated tub with peeling paint and a dented smokestack. A tattered tricolored banner, denoting an independent operator, drooped from the staff. Faded lettering along the bow spelled out the vessel's name: Blind Cripple. Blind Cripple.

Luzelle's jaw dropped. She did not dare to meet Girays's eyes.

"She doesn't go in much for paint and pennants," Jhiv-Huze confessed sentimentally. "She isn't quite the fashionable belle. But she has the heart of a champion, the Cripple Cripple has, and she'll burst her sweet boiler to carry you safe to Jumo." has, and she'll burst her sweet boiler to carry you safe to Jumo."

"But how long will she take to do it? Can we hope to overtake the Water Sprite Water Sprite?"

"Overtake her? Rest a.s.sured, we'll leave that overblown, overloaded, glorified scow wallowing in our wake within the s.p.a.ce of hours. Depend on it."

Luzelle drew a deep breath and compelled herself to request, "Then allow us to board, Captain."

"Mmm, yes. Madame will recall..." He rubbed his thumb and two fingers together expressively.

"Oh, certainly." Her wallet produced five hundred New-rekkoes, which she handed over with a false air of confidence. Girays did likewise, and Captain Jhiv-Huze grandly motioned them on to the slippery, creaky gangplank.

The Blind Cripple Blind Cripple stank of rancid cooking oil, cheap cigars, old fish, and fresh excrement. A single whiff served notice that a slop bucket or chamber pot located somewhere below was emptied on an irregular basis at best. Luzelle's nose wrinkled. Courtesy just barely prevented her from pinching her nostrils. Her eyes encountered Girays's. One of his dark brows rose. Suddenly she discovered giggles bubbling at the back of her throat, and she suppressed them with an effort. There was nothing to laugh about, she told herself sternly. The stank of rancid cooking oil, cheap cigars, old fish, and fresh excrement. A single whiff served notice that a slop bucket or chamber pot located somewhere below was emptied on an irregular basis at best. Luzelle's nose wrinkled. Courtesy just barely prevented her from pinching her nostrils. Her eyes encountered Girays's. One of his dark brows rose. Suddenly she discovered giggles bubbling at the back of her throat, and she suppressed them with an effort. There was nothing to laugh about, she told herself sternly. The Blind Cripple Blind Cripple was disgusting and doubtless unhealthy- was disgusting and doubtless unhealthy- A sputter escaped her, and she turned it into a cough.

She would probably contract some dreadful disease aboard this floating pesthouse. The air alone would be enough to poison her over the course of-of- "How many days to Jumo?" Luzelle inquired.

"From five to twelve, depending upon the weather, the condition of the river, and the disposition of the Nine Blessed Tribes," Jhiv-Huze returned serenely.

"Oh." Her merriment evaporated. Five days aboard the Blind Cripple Blind Cripple const.i.tuted serious hardship. Twice that was unthinkable. const.i.tuted serious hardship. Twice that was unthinkable.

"Considerable variation there," Girays observed without visible concern. "How would you evaluate the current condition of weather, river, and Blessed Tribesmen, Captain?"

"Weather favorable," the other declared. "Spring rains all but over, summer heat not yet set in. Prime flesh-borer season, but that shouldn't trouble us much aboard the Cripple. Cripple. The river is high and swift, the shoals well submerged. It isn't easy to run aground at this time of the year, and thus the The river is high and swift, the shoals well submerged. It isn't easy to run aground at this time of the year, and thus the Waterweed Waterweed's recent encounter with a sandbar above Flewn's Bend marks a rare triumph for her pilot-he's accomplished the nearly impossible. As for the disposition of the Blessed Tribesmen, that's not so easily gauged. Beyond question they're angered by recent events and, given the opportunity, won't hesitate to express their dissatisfaction. But opportunities are few between here and Ygah-Ta'ahri, thanks to the Grewzian presence. The offal-chomping gut-gobblers-that is to say, the stalwart sons of the Imperium-swarm like busy little grey bees along that stretch of the river, and to give them their due, they maintain good order. Below Ygah-Ta'ahri the Ypsinolo Falls force all vessels into the detour of the Ta'ahri Capillaries, whose complexity defies even Grewzian efficiency. There, where the channels are narrow and the jungle dense, the Blessed Tribesmen remain a force to be reckoned with. But Roupe Jhiv-Huze is ready to face them. His fortunes are fair, his star in the ascendant. Sir and Madame, you are privileged to enjoy his protection."

"That was a most informative evaluation, Captain," Girays remarked with apparent appreciation. He glanced at Luzelle, and his eyes spoke. Still time to back out. Still time to back out.

Never, she replied in silence. Aloud she requested, "Will you show us to our quarters, Captain?"

"Below," Jhiv-Huze directed amiably. "Easily located. Madame need only follow her nose."

"We want separate staterooms," she announced.

"Staterooms?" He pondered. "Madame will soon discover that we aboard the Cripple Cripple lead lives of extreme simplicity. The captain alone enjoys private quarters. Pa.s.sengers and crew sling hammocks where they find s.p.a.ce." lead lives of extreme simplicity. The captain alone enjoys private quarters. Pa.s.sengers and crew sling hammocks where they find s.p.a.ce."

"But surely you can't expect me to share accommodations with-I mean, you must see that it's quite impossible-"

"Madame may come to appreciate the s.p.a.cious airy comfort of the deck in the evening. Moonlight upon the river, the glory of the stars overhead, the kiss of the forest breezes upon your brow-"

"The kiss of countless mosquitoes upon every inch of exposed skin, the caress of torrential downpours-no, Captain." Luzelle folded her arms. "The deck won't do, and-"

"And Madame will doubtless wish to investigate alternatives," the captain observed cheerily. "The engine room, the bilge, the galley-the possibilities are manifold. Perhaps Madame will seek the advice of Oonuvu, who knows every inch of the Blind Cripple Blind Cripple."

"Oonuvu?"

"The stoker. A splendid lad."

"But-"

"And now Jhiv-Huze must set to work. Sir and Madame, you will find all that you require below. Come, let us cast off!" So saying, the captain paused above an open hatch to shout orders in Ygahri dialect down to an invisible subordinate, then turned away to begin wrestling with the gangplank.

"Do you mean to follow his suggestion?" Girays did not trouble to hide his amus.e.m.e.nt. "If not, better decide quickly."

"Nothing to decide," she declared, and slipped neatly by him to descend the companionway to a verminous galley, which she pa.s.sed through without letting her eyes linger. Beyond the galley lay the blistering engine room, with its primitive boiler presided over by a muscular, sweat-gleaming Ygahri youth, perhaps fifteen years of age, clad in an abbreviated loincloth. He turned as she entered, and she caught the flash of slanted black eyes burning beneath a long fringe of tangled black hair. Oonuvu, without doubt. Luzelle essayed a polite tepid smile, which was not returned. The young stoker's devouring eyes narrowed. Setting his shovel aside, he squatted down on his haunches and studied her at expressionless length. Presently his hands began to slide back and forth along his thighs, streaking the coppery flesh with dark coal dust. Uneasiness stirred at the pit of her stomach. She should not have left Girays up on deck. Mistake. Bother Girays. I can look after myself. Bother Girays. I can look after myself. She turned and walked away. She turned and walked away.

Behind her she heard Oonuvu's voice, whispering in Ygahri. She did not understand a single word, and somehow felt that she did not want to.

The next door she opened disclosed a tiny closet containing a hammock, a padlocked oaken chest, a padlocked locker, and a table supporting an alcohol burner. The enclosed s.p.a.ce reeked of marukinutu. marukinutu. These were manifestly the captain's quarters, and she shut the door at once. These were manifestly the captain's quarters, and she shut the door at once.

Proceeding forward to the main cabin, she discovered dirt, evil odors, and half a dozen filthy hammocks. No washstand. No pillows, no sheets. No privacy. No feasible alternative. She set her bag down on the floor.

A creak alerted her, and she turned to find Oonuvu framed in the narrow doorway. He was leaning against the jamb, compact body motionless, coppery face still as a mask, unwinking slanted eyes fixed upon her.

"What is the matter?" she inquired with a distant courtesy designed to mask her apprehension. His face did not change, and she wondered if he understood any language other than his own native dialect.

She repeated the query in Grewzian. Still no response, not a flicker, not a twitch. His inscrutable immobility was beginning to wear on her nerves, but she hardly ventured to complain, for the boy had done nothing wrong.

Marukinutu? she wondered, but could not judge by his eyes, for the black of his pupils merged indistinguishably with the black of the surrounding irises. she wondered, but could not judge by his eyes, for the black of his pupils merged indistinguishably with the black of the surrounding irises.

"Go away," she commanded sharply. "Go back to your work."

He did not react, and her hand automatically sought the Khrennisov in her pocket. The touch of steel gave her pause. Draw a loaded gun on an adolescent who offered no overt threat? A ridiculous, hysterical notion. Or was it? She looked into his obsidian eyes and wondered.

The hoot of a whistle resolved the dilemma. The Blind Cripple Blind Cripple pulled away from the dock. pulled away from the dock.

"Back to your work." Luzelle emphasized the command with a gesture. Oonuvu studied her another endless moment, then withdrew as silently as he had come.

She expelled a relieved breath. For a moment she stood still, then stepped to the porthole and looked out without seeing. Her thoughts jumped to the immediate future; sleeping, eating, washing, dressing, and undressing aboard the Blind Cripple Blind Cripple for the next five days and more. Uncomfortable. Embarra.s.sing. Unsafe. Intolerable. for the next five days and more. Uncomfortable. Embarra.s.sing. Unsafe. Intolerable.

But not so intolerable as defeat. And not nearly so intolerable as the snide remarks that Girays would produce should she try to back out now. She had made her own hammock, and now she would lie in it.

14.

XOXO RECEDED INTO THE DISTANCE. Dense forest crowded the banks of the Ygah. Luzelle returned to the deck and stationed herself at the rail, eager for the sight of untrammeled greenery, exotic blossoms of violent color, and highly improbable birds. They were all there, as gorgeous as ever she had imagined, but she could not enjoy the spectacle. The atmosphere-sweltering, saturated, and weighted with the stench of decay-lay inert in her lungs. She was languid with the heat, her head heavy, her body bathed in sweat. No corresponding torpor a.s.sailed the countless airborne insects buzzing about the boat. Bees. Horseflies. Green-headed scarlet-winged things that peeped sweetly and bit torturously. Flying legions of them, invincible and insatiable. Dense forest crowded the banks of the Ygah. Luzelle returned to the deck and stationed herself at the rail, eager for the sight of untrammeled greenery, exotic blossoms of violent color, and highly improbable birds. They were all there, as gorgeous as ever she had imagined, but she could not enjoy the spectacle. The atmosphere-sweltering, saturated, and weighted with the stench of decay-lay inert in her lungs. She was languid with the heat, her head heavy, her body bathed in sweat. No corresponding torpor a.s.sailed the countless airborne insects buzzing about the boat. Bees. Horseflies. Green-headed scarlet-winged things that peeped sweetly and bit torturously. Flying legions of them, invincible and insatiable.

The little monsters didn't seem to bother the captain, she noted with some resentment. There was Jhiv-Huze up on the bridge-bareheaded, sleeves and loose trousers rolled-happily immune to a.s.sault. And that stoker, the eerie Oonuvu, skulked around almost naked without ill effect. And Girays v'Alisante, briar pipe in hand, wreathed himself in clouds of expensive tobacco smoke that repelled the insects, and seemed happy enough. Whereas she, female and fair skinned- Another of the scarlet-winged creatures bit, and she slapped uselessly. It wasn't fair. Perhaps she should ask Girays for the loan of a pipe. She could smoke it while polishing her gun. Cigarettes, perhaps? She could probably purchase or trade for a supply the first time the Blind Cripple Blind Cripple docked at some camp along the river. Some women did smoke-a few eccentric socialites too rich and powerful to care for public opinion; certain actresses, artists' models, bohemians, demimondaines, and the like. Into her mind popped the picture of the Grandlandsman Torvid Stornzof and his signature black cigarettes. No, she would not smoke. docked at some camp along the river. Some women did smoke-a few eccentric socialites too rich and powerful to care for public opinion; certain actresses, artists' models, bohemians, demimondaines, and the like. Into her mind popped the picture of the Grandlandsman Torvid Stornzof and his signature black cigarettes. No, she would not smoke.

Her chin itched. Her hand rose to the freshly swollen b.u.mp there and she rubbed it, sorely tempted.

"Don't scratch," advised a voice behind her.

The sharp scent of marukinutu marukinutu filled her nostrils. She turned to confront Jhiv-Huze. filled her nostrils. She turned to confront Jhiv-Huze.

"Activates the insect venom, spreads it around, intensifies the irritation. Quite soon the bite festers. In this climate, a serious matter. Sometimes fatal. Mmm, yes. Roupe Jhiv-Huze has seen it more than once," the captain continued with relish. "The afflicted visage, discolored and distorted almost beyond recognition, pocked with cl.u.s.tering suppurations. Each sore swollen to the size of a grape, the skin stretched tight and shiny, the surrounding flesh intensely livid. Then-the pustules rupture, their contents spurting forth in corrosive streams. The pain of this process is excruciating, the sight appalling, the stench unspeakable. Many victims succ.u.mb, and those that survive are disfigured, their faces marked forever with jagged craters and raised scars. Jhiv-Huze would hate to see such a fate befall a face so charming as Madame's, and therefore he most earnestly enjoins her not to scratch."

"She won't." Suddenly queasy, Luzelle turned away and made for the companionway.

"Marukinutu," the captain recommended. "The fragrance of strongly infused the captain recommended. "The fragrance of strongly infused marukinutu marukinutu repels all manner of winged pests. They cannot abide it. Jhiv-Huze can hardly imagine why, but knows how to profit by their ignorance, and he advises his pa.s.sengers to do the same. Dose yourself well, Madame. The alternative-torment, infection, oozing pus, welling blood, facial necrosis, the nauseous reek of mortifying flesh, the inevitable maggots-" repels all manner of winged pests. They cannot abide it. Jhiv-Huze can hardly imagine why, but knows how to profit by their ignorance, and he advises his pa.s.sengers to do the same. Dose yourself well, Madame. The alternative-torment, infection, oozing pus, welling blood, facial necrosis, the nauseous reek of mortifying flesh, the inevitable maggots-"

One hand pressed to her mouth, Luzelle fled. Behind her rumbled volcanic eructations of laughter.

Son of a sow did that on purpose, she thought. Girays was right again. I just hate it when he's right. I just hate it when he's right.

Reaching the inadequate sanctuary of the main cabin, she let herself sink gingerly into a dirty hammock, and there remained until her qualms subsided. The place stank like an outhouse, but offered limited refuge from the insects. There was one significant advantage to a hammock, even a filthy one, she reflected-no possibility of bedbugs. It was not a great comfort, but it was something.

She sat up. Drawing her bag near, she opened it to discover that her belongings had been disarranged, and none too subtly. The small bundle of raisins purchased in Zuleekistan gaped wide, and she had left it securely tied. Several of her linen undergarments were blackly streaked with coal dust. Indignation, embarra.s.sment, and uneasiness fluttered her insides. Her hand automatically sought the Khrennisov. The weapon was safe in her pocket, along with her money and pa.s.sport, which she always kept with her.

Instinct pulled her gaze to the doorway, where the young stoker Oonuvu stood silently watching her. Their eyes met, and his did not waver. After a moment his hands began to slide slowly up and down along his thighs.

Her own hands tightened, along with her jaw. She wanted to get away, but he was blocking the exit. Of course he would stand aside if she made for the door, he would not dare hesitate. And if she was wrong about that, she really did not want to know, so she stayed where she was.

He's only a boy, she reminded herself. Scarcely more than a child. Harmless. Scarcely more than a child. Harmless.

But he looked neither childish nor harmless. His body was compact but powerful, the muscles bulging beneath the skin. Beyond question he was stronger than she.

She glanced down at her open bag, with its violated contents, and anger stiffened her spine. Rising to her feet and confronting him squarely, she demanded, "Did you touch my belongings?"

There was no response, no indication that he had heard much less understood her. She repeated the query sharply, without result. His blank, hot gaze rattled her, and her cheeks flushed. Carefully maintaining a firm but calm tone, she told him, "This bag and everything in it are mine. You are not to touch them. Do you understand?" No reply, and she mouthed very distinctly, "Mine. Do not touch."

His slanting eyes flickered, and she resisted the impulse to step backward.

He whispered something in Ygahri.

"Get out of here." She heard herself snap out the command like a Grewzian overseer. "Go back to the engine room. Get out."

He was still staring fathomlessly at her, and might have stood there in the doorway for the rest of the day had the imperative call of the captain not rung through the boat. Oonuvu unhurriedly licked the palm of his hand-another obscure gesture-and retired, leaving her alone.

Luzelle expelled a prolonged, slow breath. Stepping to the porthole, she gazed out at the opaque yellow-brown waters of the Ygah. For a long time she stood there without moving.

UNCOMFORTABLE AND BORED, she lurked in the cabin until the sun's decline in the early evening promised relief from steamy heat and voracious insects. Then at last she returned to the deck where Girays, comfortable in the shade of a tropical straw hat, sat poring over a battered copy of v'Ierre's History of the Jurlian-Zenki Wars. History of the Jurlian-Zenki Wars.

"Lost in the past?" she asked, smiling.

"It is less puzzling than the future and less humid than the present." He returned her smile. "Where have you been all afternoon? Napping?"

"I wish. Sewing, actually. I'm starting to resemble a Bizaqhi beggar, so I thought I'd best use the spare time to mend some of my disintegrating clothes."

"Sewing. Hard to imagine. I never pictured the dashing Miss Devaire as a repository of domestic virtues."

"I don't think you ever pictured the dashing Miss Devaire as a repository of any virtues."

"Ah, you impugn my good judgment."

"No, only your good nature. But you can prove me wrong by diverting me with your conversation for a few minutes."

"Good to know that it qualifies as diverting."

"Come, set that old book aside for now. I'll bet it's dry as last week's bread, anyway."

"Don't you believe it. In this climate nothing's dry for long."

As if in confirmation, a brief shower of raindrops spattered out of the dimming sky. It was over in a minute or two, leaving the damp world marginally cooler.

"That felt wonderful." Luzelle shook her wet hair, and the water droplets flew in all directions. "Is it my imagination, or do I actually feel something like a feeble breeze?"

"Impossible. Well"-he reconsidered-"maybe the mournful ghost of a breeze."

"Or the vague premonition." She moved to the railing, and he rose from his chair to follow. "The rain seems to have chased most of the bugs away, for now. There are moments here and there when this place almost verges on bearable." A glow of light caught her eye and she blinked, then pointed. "Look, Girays-look over there."