The Green Odyssey, Philip José Farmer [simple ebook reader .txt] 📗

they said by a mighty falling star...."

"A meteor," commented Green.

"... and it had dug that great hole. Well, that was as good an explanation as any. But the amazing thing was that when they came by that very spot a month later, the hole was gone. It was filled up and smoothed out, and grass was growing over it as if nothing had ever broken the skin of the earth. Now, how do you explain that, Foster-father?"

"There are more things in heaven and earth than ever your philosophies dreamed of, Horatio," Green nonchalantly replied, though he felt as though he wasn't quoting exactly right.

Amra and her son blinked. "Horatio?"

"Never mind."

"This sailor said that it was probably the work of the gods, who labor secretly at night that the plain may stay flat and clean of obstacles so their true worshipers may sail upon it and profit thereby."

"Will the wonders of rationalization never cease?" said Green.

He rose from his pile of furs. "Almost time for my watch." He kissed Amra, the maid, the children, and stepped out from the tent. He walked rather carelessly across the deck absorbed in wondering what the effect would be upon Amra if he told her his true origin. Could she comprehend the concept of other worlds existing by the hundreds of thousands, yet so distant from each other that a man could walk steadily for a million years and still not get halfway from Earth to this planet of hers? Or would she react automatically, as most of her fellows would do, and think that he must surely be a demon in human disguise? It would be more natural for her to prefer the latter idea. If you looked at it objectively, it was more plausible, given her lack of scientific knowledge. Much more believable, too.

Somebody bumped him. Jarred out of his reverie, he automatically apologized in English.

"Don't curse at me in your foreign tongue!" snarled Grazoot, the plump little harpist.

Ezkr was standing behind Grazoot. He spoke out of the side of his mouth, urging the bard on. "He thinks he can walk all over you, Grazoot, because he insulted your harp once and you let him get away with it."

Grazoot puffed out his cheeks, reddened in the face and glared. "It is only because Miran has forbidden duels that I have not plunged my dagger into this son of an izzot!"

Green looked from one to the other. Obviously this scene was prearranged with no good end for him in view.

"Stand aside," he said haughtily. "You are interfering with the discipline of the 'roller. Miran will not like that."

"Indeed!" said Grazoot. "Do you think Miran cares at all about what happens to you? You're a lousy sailor and it hurts me to have to call you brother. In fact, I spit every time I say it to you, brother!"

Grazoot did just that. Green, who was downwind, felt the fine mist wet his legs. He began to get angry.

"Out of my way or I'll report you to the first mate," he said firmly and walked by them. They gave way, but he had an uneasy feeling in the small of his back, as if a knife would plunge into it. Of course, they shouldn't be so foolish, because they would be hamstrung and then dropped off the 'roller for the crime of cowardice. But these people were so hot-headed they were just as likely as not to stab him in a moment of fury.

Once on the rope ladder that ran up to the crow's nest, he began to lose the prickly feeling in his back. At that moment Grazoot called out, "Oh, Green, I had a vision last night, a true vision, because my patron god sent it, and he himself appeared in it. He announced that he would snuff up his nostrils the welcome scent of your blood, spilled all over the deck from your fall!"

Green paused with one foot on the rail. "You tell your god to stay away from me, or I'll punch him in the nose!" he called back.

There was a gasp from the many people who'd gathered around to listen. "Sacrilege!" yelled Grazoot. "Blasphemy!" He turned to those around him. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes," said Ezkr, stepping out from the crowd. "I heard him and I am shocked. Men have burned for less."

"Oh, my patron god, Tonuscala, punish this pride-swollen man! Make your dreams come true. Cast him headlong from the mast and dash him to the deck and break every bone in his body so that men may learn that one does not mock the true gods."

"Tahkhai," murmured the crowd. "Amen."

Green smiled grimly. He had fallen into their trap and now must be on guard. Plainly, one or both of them would be aloft tonight during the dark hour after sunset, and they'd be content with nothing less than pitching him out over the deck. His death would be considered to have come from the hands of an outraged god. And if Amra should accuse Ezkr and Grazoot she'd get little justice. As for Miran, the fellow would probably heave a sigh of relief, because he'd be rid of a troublesome fellow who could carry damaging stories of a certain conspiracy to the Duke of Tropat.

He climbed up to the crow's nest, and settled gloomily to staring off at the horizon. Just before sunset Grizquetr came up with a bottle of wine and food in a covered basket.

Between bites Green told the boy of his suspicions.

"Mother has already guessed as much," said the lad. "She is a very clever woman indeed, my mother. She has put a curse upon the two if you should come to harm."

"Very clever. That will do a great deal of good. Thank her for her splendid work while you're picking up my pieces from the deck, will you?"

"To be sure," replied Grizquetr, trying hard to keep his sober face from breaking into a grin. "And Mother also sent you this."

He rolled the kerchief all the way off the top of the basket. Green's eyes widened.

15

"A rocket flare!"

"Yes. Mother says that you are to release it when you hear the bos'n's whistle from the deck."

"Now, why in the world would I do that? Won't I get into tremendous trouble by doing that? I'll be run through the gauntlet a dozen times for that. No sir, not me. I've seen those poor fellows after the whips were through with them."

"Mother said for me to tell you that nobody will be able to prove who sent up the flare."

"Perhaps. It sounds reasonable. But why should I do it?"

"It will light up the whole ship for a minute, and everybody will be able to see that Ezkr and Grazoot are in the rigging. The whole ship will be in an uproar. Of course, when it is discovered that somebody has stolen two flares from the store-room, and when a search is conducted, and one flare is found hidden in Ezkr's trunk, then ... well, you see...."

"Oh, beamish boy!" chortled Green. "Calloo, callay! Go tell your mother she's the most marvelous woman on this planet—though that's really not much of a compliment, now I think of it. Oh, wait a minute! About this bos'n's whistle. Now, why should he be warning me to send up a flare?"

"He won't. Mother will be blowing it. She'll be waiting for a signal from me or Azaxu," Grizquetr said, referring to his younger brother. "We'll be watching Ezkr and Grazoot, and when they start to climb aloft we'll notify her. She'll wait until she thinks they're about halfway up, then she'll whistle."

"That woman has saved my life at least half a dozen times. What would I do without her?"

"That's what Mother said. She said that she doesn't know why she went after you when you tried to run away from her—from us—because she has great pride. And she doesn't have to chase a man to get one; princes have begged her to come live with them. But she did because she loves you, and a good thing, too. Otherwise your stupidity would have killed you ten times over by now."

"Oh, she did, did she? Well, hah, hum. Yes, well...!"

Thoroughly ashamed of himself, yet angry at Amra for her estimate of him, Green miserably watched Grizquetr climb down the ratlines.

During the next half-hour, time seemed to coagulate, to thicken and harden around him so that he felt as if he were encased in it. The clouds that always came up after sunset formed, and a light drizzle began. It would last for about an hour, he knew, then the clouds would disappear so swiftly that they would give the impression of being yanked away like a tablecloth by some magician over the horizon. But he'd cram a highly nervous lifetime into those minutes, wondering if perhaps there wouldn't be some unforeseen frustration of Amra's schedule.

The first webby drops struck his face, and he wondered if perhaps that wouldn't be what the two would wait for. They'd probably taken the first step up the rigging, but he mustn't expect her whistle for some time yet. If they were clever they wouldn't climb up directly beneath him, but would go aft, ascend to the top, then climb over to him. It was true that they'd have to pass others who, like Green, were also stationed aloft on watch. But Ezkr and Grazoot knew the locations of these. So dark was it they could pass within touching distance and not be seen or heard. The wind in the rigging, the creak of masts, the rumble of the great wheels would drown out any slight noise they might make.

The 'roller did not stop sailing just because the helmsmen could not see. The Bird followed a well-charted route; every permanent obstacle along here had been memorized by helmsmen and officers alike. If anything formidable was expected in their path during the dark period, a course would be set to avoid it. The officers on duty would advise the helmsmen on their steering by means of an ingenious dial on a notched plate. His sensitive fingers, following its flickerings back and forth, and comparing them with the directional notches, would tell him how close to the course they were keeping. The dial itself was fixed to the needle of a compass beneath it.

Green hunched his shoulders beneath his coat and walked around the walls of his nest. He strained his eyes to make out something in the blackness that wrapped him around like a shroud. There was nothing, nothing at all.... No, wait! What was that? A vague outline of a white face?

He stared hard until it disappeared, then he sighed and realized how rigidly he'd been standing there. And of course he'd been open to attack from behind all that time.

No, not really. If he couldn't see an arm's length away, neither could the other two.

But they didn't have to see. They knew the ropes so well that they could grope blindfolded to his nest and there feel him out. A touch of a finger, followed by a thrust of steel. That would be all it would take.

He was thinking of that when he felt the finger. It poked into his back and held him like a statue for just a second, quivering, paralyzed. Then he gave a hoarse cry and jumped away. He snatched out his dagger and crouched down close to the floor, straining his eyes and ears, trying to detect them. Surely, if they were breathing as hard as he, he couldn't fail to hear them.

On the other hand, he realized with a sudden sickishness, they could hear him just as well.

"Come on! Come on!" he said soundlessly, through clenched teeth. "Do something! Make a move so I can pin you, you sons of izzots!"

Perhaps they were doing the same, waiting for him to betray himself. The best thing was to hug the floor where he was and hope they'd stumble over him.

He kept reaching out in front of him, feeling for the warm flesh of a face. His other hand held his dagger.

It was during one of his tentative explorations that he felt the basket where Grizquetr had left it. At once, seized with what he thought was an inspiration, he pulled out the flare. Why wait for them to close in on him and butcher him like a hog? He'd send up the flare now, and in the first shock of its glare he'd attack them.

The only trouble was, he'd have to put down his dagger in order to take his flint and steel and tinderbox from his pocket. He hated not to have it ready for thrusting.

Solving this problem by putting the dagger between his teeth, he took out his firebox, paused, and swiftly put them back. Now, how was he supposed to get the tinder going