Short Fiction, Poul Anderson [simple e reader .TXT] 📗

Janazik padded around to stand before him. He was not the only Khazaki in the cellar; there were a good dozen others. Mostly they were young males, and Anse recognized them. Bolazan, Pragakech, Slavatozik⁠—he’d played with them as a child, he’d fared out with them as a youth and a man to the wars, to storm the high citadel of Zarganau and smite the warriors of Volgazan and pirate the commerce of the outer islands. They were good comrades, yes. But Father and Jamie were dead. Ellen, Ellen was vanished. Only a fragment of the human community remained; his world had suddenly come down in ruin about him.

Well⁠—his old bleak resolution came back to him, and he met the yellow slit-pupilled gaze of Janazik with a challenging stare.

They were a strange contrast, these two, for all that they had fought shoulder to shoulder halfway round the planet, had sung and played and roistered from Krakenau to Gorgazan. Comrades in arms, blood brothers maybe, but neither was human from the viewpoint of the other.

Dougald Anson was big even for a Terrestrial; his tawny head rode at full two meters and his wide shoulders strained the chain mail he wore. He was young, but his face had had the youth burned out of it by strange suns and wild winds around the world, was lean and brown and marked with an old scar across the forehead. His eyes were almost intolerably bright and direct in their blue stare, the eyes of a bird of prey.

The Khazaki was humanoid, to be sure⁠—shorter than the Terrestrial average, but slim and lithe. Soft golden fur covered his sinewy body, and a slender tail switched restlessly against his legs. His head was the least human part of him, with its sloping forehead, narrow chin, and blunt-muzzled face. The long whiskers around his mouth and above the amber cat-eyes twitched continuously, sensitive to minute shifts in air currents and temperature. Along the top of his skull, the fur grew up in a cockatoo plume that swept back down his neck, a secondary sexual characteristic that females lacked.

Janazik was something of a dandy, and even now he wore the baggy silk-like trousers, long red sash, and elaborately embroidered blouse and vest of a Krakenaui noble. It was woefully muddy, but he managed to retain an air of fastidious elegance. The bow and quiver across his back, the sword and dirk at his side, somehow looked purely ornamental when he wore them.

He was almost dwarfed by Anse’s huge-thewed height. But old Chiang Chung-Chen noticed, not for the first time, that the human wore clothing and carried weapons of Khazaki pattern, and that the harsh syllables of Krakenaui came more easily to his lips than the Terrestrial of his fathers. And the old man nodded, gravely and a little wearily.

Janazik spoke rapidly: “Volakech must have been plotting his return from exile a long time. He managed to raise a small army of pirates, mercenaries, and outlawed Krakenaui, and he made bargains with groups within the city. Two days ago, certain of the guards seized the new guns and let Volakech and his men in. Others revolted within the town. I think King Aligan was killed; at least I’ve seen or heard nothing of him since. There’s been some fighting between rebels and loyalists but the rebels got all the Earth-weapons when they captured the royal arsenal and since then they’ve just about crushed resistance. Loyalists who could, fled the city. The rest are in hiding. Volakech is king.”

“But⁠—why us? The Terrestrials⁠—what have we to do with⁠—”

Janazik’s yellow eyes blazed at him. “You aren’t stupid, blood-brother. Think!”

After a moment Anse nodded bleakly. “The Star Ship⁠—”

“Of course! Volakech has seized the rocket boat. No Terrestrial in his right mind would show him how to use it, so he had to capture someone who understood its operation and force them to take him out to the Star Ship. Old Masefield Henry was killed resisting arrest⁠—you know how bloody guardsmen are, in spite of orders to take someone alive. Volakech ordered the arrest of all Terrestrials then. A few surrendered to him, a few were killed resisting, most were captured by force. As far as we know, this group is all which escaped.”

“Then Ellen⁠—?”

“That’s the weird thing. I don’t believe she has been caught. Volakech’s men are still scouring the city for ‘an Earthling woman’ as the orders read. And who could it be but Ellen? No other woman represents any danger or any desirable capture to Volakech.”

“Ellen understands astrogation,” said Anse slowly. “She learned it from her grandfather.”

“Yes. And now that he is dead, she is the only human⁠—the only being on this planet⁠—who can get that rocket up to the Star Ship. And Masefield Carson knows it.”

“Carson? Ellen’s older brother? What⁠—”

Janazik’s voice was cold as Winter: “Masefield Carson was with Volakech. He led the rebels inside the city. Now he’s the new king’s lieutenant.”

“Carson! No!”

“Carson⁠—yes!” Janazik’s smile was without mirth or pity. His eyes sought out Philip, huddled miserably beside the lamp. “Isn’t that the truth?”

The boy nodded, too choked with his own unhappiness to cry. “Carse always was a friend of Volakech, before King Aligan outlawed him,” he mumbled. “And he always said how it was a shame, and how Volakech would know better what to do with the Star Ship than anyone now. Then⁠—that night⁠—” His voice trailed off, he sat dumbly staring into the flame.

“Carson led the rebel guardsmen in their seizure of the city guns,” said Janazik. “He also rode to the Masefield house at the head of a troop of them and called on his people to surrender on promise of good treatment. Joe and the mother did, and I suppose they’re held somewhere in the citadel now. Phil and Ellen happened to be out at the time. When Phil heard of the uprising, he was afraid to give himself up, in spite of the heralds that went