At Mavra’s suggestion, they also looked at heavy coats, since they would be going into unknown climates and might well need them. There weren’t too many available for non-Gekir types and none that were really great fits, but a sufficient number of races were to one degree or another humanoid that even the Erdomese found rough fits. The Dillians, it appeared, had brought their own along, and Anne Marie insisted that she could alter the new coats to some degree to make them fit better.
They also finally met a Gekir male.
He was pretty easy to spot; thin, gaunt-looking, and smaller than a female, he was a sort of faded gray color all over except for his outsized lionlike snow white mane. He had a medium-length tail that ended in an explosive puff of white fur, further contrasting him with the tailless females. He also wore matching bracelets and anklets of a golden color with ornate designs in them and a large golden oval nose ring and appeared to be perfumed.
The people had overall been quite friendly, and so Lori couldn’t resist trying to strike up a conversation with him in the street.
“Your pardon, sir, but you are the first man we have seen since coming to Gekir, and I was just curious. I mean, it began to look like there were no men at all here.”
The Gekir seemed amused. “Oh, yes, there be a lot of us, only not nearly in the same numbers as women. The average be about fifteen women to one man. It be different where you come from, I suppose.”
“In some ways, yes, in others, no. In Erdom there are ten females for every male, but as you can see from my wife here, the men are larger, and because of the hand development and upper muscle strength, men run the affairs while the women run the household and bear and raise the children.”
“Huh! Think of that! Dunno if I’d like that or not! Got enough trouble just doin’ me male duties.”
It turned out that the males, smaller, far weaker, and fewer in number, ran nothing at all. They also tended to be uneducated and limited in what they could do. What they could do was have sex, apparently in nearly unlimited amounts, and they tended to do that essentially as a profession, often doing a “circuit of me regulars” and spending their time at those “regulars’ ” homes. They also performed services from shopping for busy women to baby-sitting and took little interest in much outside this life. If the male they met was as typical as he said he was, they liked it that way.
“See, all the time they likes us around, and once a month they needs us, so they keeps us pretty happy,” the Gekir male told him. The general feeling among the women, he explained in a low voice, was that men were stupid and incompetent except at the one thing they were needed for, and the men had a vested interest in maintaining those attitudes. “They even cook for us,” he told Lori. “Think we don’t know how.”
The male begged off further talk, since he had a “real important appointment just after sunset,” but he’d revealed enough.
In Gekir, the women ruled and the men were small and weak, considered inferior, and used entirely as sex objects. It was even more extreme than Erdom by a great deal, and it disturbed Lori almost as much as the reverse would have. It answered one of those nagging questions in a way he hadn’t wanted it answered.
The parallel seemed to be with many Earth insects. The black widow was obvious, but many male spiders existed only for one purpose and then died, not to mention male bees and many other examples. A lot of women he’d known back on Earth would have loved this kind of arrangement, but he wasn’t so sure. Was his distaste, though, just because he was now a man himself, or was it because the same offenses committed in reverse felt no more moral?
It was a question he pondered as they went back to the camp and set up to cook dinner as the sun went down. After determining that there were quite a number of things both Erdomese and Dillians could eat in common, Lori did not object to Alowi and Anne Marie preparing the meal, with him translating as needed. It did not in fact come out bad at all.
Mavra had remained in town, she said to talk to some people before her official dinner later that night. She told them that they should not wait for her and that they should get some sleep.
Alowi did the cleanup, then insisted on using her new combs and brushes to get the last vestiges of grime from Lori’s fur and tail, and he even allowed a little perfume to be used to cover the mild but remaining swamp odor.
The Dillians excused themselves and went off into the shorter, greener grass nearby and eventually seemed to lock themselves for sleep.
With his hand still bandaged and saying by occasional aches and sharp pains that it should remain so for a while longer, there wasn’t much for the Erdomese to do but try to sleep themselves. Alowi cuddled up close to him and was soon out cold; after the previous night with so little sleep she had to be exhausted. Still, Lori would have liked to have discussed the oddly different sexual balance of Gekir and perhaps talked about the old days, as they always had, but he couldn’t. Those conversations had been with Julian, and Julian, it appeared, no longer existed for all practical purposes.
He felt doubly guilty for that somehow. He’d treated her as less than a partner, all along driving home the division that must have raged within her no matter how much she suppressed it, and it had been his own stupid injuries that had caused the final break.
Nobody else had gotten even a scratch. Not even Jul— Alowi. Mister Macho had to leap before he looked, jump too fast, not notice an embankment. He had to be out first, since he was going to look out for the others. The poor, defenseless others. The girls.
Yeah, right.
Damn it! he thought, furious with himself. When the hell did I turn into every guy I ever loathed in high school?
It was not exactly the kind of grand commercial vessel that both the Dillians and the Erdomese had used to reach Itus. It was in fact small, low but with big masts, and had a central funnel so that it could be used under steam where possible. It was built for silence and speed, not for comfort and convenience, and for its ability to run with a minimal crew.
It was also painted a dull black, and even the sails and ropes had been dyed to a very dark gray hue. The bridge was actually exposed as in the ancient sailing ships of Earth, but there was a small secondary cabin between the main wheel and the funnel with a duplicate wheel that could be engaged and that had some very exotic-looking, if now totally turned off, electronic gear.
The captain was from Stulz, far off to the south and west across the great Ocean of Shadows, farther from his own hex than the travelers were from theirs. He was in many ways a fearsome sight, with a dark gray foxlike face filled with sharp little teeth. His beady, reddish brown eyes seemed to dart this way and that without ever settling on any one thing or person, and he had great furry wings that formed almost a cape and a hairy pair of arms terminating in fingers with very long, sharp claws. His bowlegs terminated in prehensile feet that essentially duplicated the hands, while from his back came a long whiplike leathery tail that seemed to be always under total control.
The trouble with Captain Hjlarza, Mavra decided, was that he looked exactly like a drug-running scoundrel in this part of the world should look.
The first mate was from Zhonzhorp and resembled nothing so much as a bipedal crocodile with long, thin arms and rubbery four-fingered hands that terminated in what appeared to be suckers or suction cups. The fact that he wore britches, a sash, a vest, and a tricorner hat with a feather in it did nothing to make him look less fearsome.
The five other crew members did little to reassure by their appearance. Two were giant hairy spiderlike creatures that seemed to be able to use any combination of their eight legs almost as tentacles. Two more were short and squat but looked as if they were humanoid caricatures carved out of very ugly rocks. The fifth was a purple and red creature with a somewhat humanoid face and torso, forelegs resembling a goat’s, and a main body that the two legs dragged around, much like a sea lion.
Only the captain and mate had translators, so for most of the passengers it was going to be a pretty nervous trip.
Alowi was horrified at the menacing menagerie, and Tony and Anne Marie hardly looked thrilled, but Lori was concerned only when she sensed that even Mavra Chang was nervous.
The Zhonzhorpian, “Just call me Zitz,” was the one who was to get them squared away.
“Could be a rough trip,” he warned them.
“Are you expecting trouble?” Mavra asked nervously.
“Oh, no, not that kind. The captain knows what he’s doing, and we’ve been at this a long time. Your Dillians, though, will have to sleep up top on the afterdeck, since they just won’t fit below, and if we get into a bit of bad weather, it can be pretty nerve-wracking up here, not to mention cold and wet.”
“I’ve briefed them as much as I could about such things,” she assured the mate. “I think we’ll lash them down if we get into rough seas.” She looked aft. “The way you’re rigged, we might also be able to set up some kind of tent or at least a shelter if you have some sailcloth to spare. They can rig it themselves if they have the materials and a few tools. If we stretch it between the afterdeck and the main deck, it will have extra support while being out of the way of the mainmast.”
Zitz was impressed by her knowledge. “All right. I think we can manage that. You’ve sailed before, I think, and not as a mere passenger.”
She nodded. “A very long time ago, though. If you need an extra hand in weather, let me know. I’m not that good at hauling sails, but I know the basics and I can handle whatever’s needed if it doesn’t take a lot of strength.”
“Very good! I may take you up on that. Weather’s been less than great of late, particularly in the northern ocean. We tend to use sail whenever possible regardless of the hex properties and save the steam for weather when we can use it or if the wind’s too much against us.”
“You’re going with cargo full?”
“Not quite, but heavy enough. We’ll top it off with a stop at sea. The only nonweather problems we might encounter are in Kzuco, which we can’t really bypass. Otherwise we’ll be staying on the northern side, which means all nontech and semitech hexes.”
She nodded. “That’s all right with us. The less attention we get, the better for our own purposes. We have no interest in your cargo or activities so long as this is yet another trip when you have no problems. In fact, I’d prefer not to meet any authorities at all.”
The Erdomese and Marva followed Zitz down into the ship. It stank and had that “lived in too long by pigs” look and feel about it. The few cabins were small and narrow, but they would do. Two small cabins that might have been used for storage had been cleared out and were essentially bare; the bedrolls would have to serve both for the Erdomese in one room and for Mavra across the corridor. When Zitz left to go topside, Mavra came over to the Erdomese.
“Not exactly first class,” she commented a bit apologetically, “but it will do. It’ll have to.”
“I wouldn’t feel comfortable with this crew if they were carrying Bibles,” Lori said nervously. “How long will we be cooped up on this tub?”
“With a decent wind they can make twenty knots, I’d say. Under steam, probably half that. Assuming some foul wind and allowing for the usual lousy conditions for at least some part of the trip, that probably means an average of a day and a half to two days to cross a hex depending if we’re going along a single edge or across the center. That’s four, maybe five days to Agon, but since they’re headed past there to Lilblod or even Clopta, it might well be a week if we don’t get off at some place along the way. Call it a week.”
“A week! I’ll never stand it! And the others . . .”
“We’ll do what we have to do. If we can bypass Agon and land in Lilblod near the Clopta border, we’ll not only save several days’ walking, we might be able to bypass the high-tech hexes and their communications systems almost entirely.”
“What about the crew? Can we trust them?”
Mavra grinned. “Not one bit. Not that I’d trust a crew looking like angels, singing like a choir, and carrying that load of Bibles you mentioned, either. In fact, watch out for the Bible carriers more than anybody. Every slave ship that ever sailed back when I knew them carried Bibles on the outbound trip; the crew all had prayer meetings and thought themselves holy and got blessed by the priests, some of whom came along. Give me a good crew of honest crooks any day. You’re never surprised, and they’re usually honorable if you’re not worth the trouble, and the profits these guys turn in one trip make us not worth the trouble.”
“Yeah? Then how did you get them to take us at all? We’re really in the way.”
“Well, if they’re stopped, the fact they have multiracial passengers will make them seem legit, since the kind of cops who go after these types know that they wouldn’t jeopardize an illegal, high-profit cargo by having innocents aboard. Also, we’re not known in the region and so are unlikely to be crooks. That’s one reason. The other reason is that they’ve been highly paid, but in order to keep that payment, they have to deliver us.”
“Huh? What are you talking about? And where did you get anything valuable enough to make them consider us as precious as their cargo?”
Mavra chuckled. “It was nice to see how it all came back to me. My original profession and one I always loved. It’s paid off quite a bit over the years when I needed it. Of course, I felt bad about doing that to the chief when she was so nice, but not being able to return to Gekir for a few generations is a small price to pay.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Lori wanted to know.
“My original profession and first love, learned out of necessity and refined to a fine art before I ever left the planet where I grew up, let alone heard of the Well World. I was the best damned jewel and art thief in the whole galaxy, I’ll have you know!”
Lori laughed, finding it hard to believe. “You? A professional thief?”
She nodded, grinning with pride. “That’s the third reason. These kind of folks can sense when they’re dealing with one of their own.”
“But—what did you steal?”
“Basically, some of the lesser state jewels kept in the governor’s vaults. Not a big deal, but the few I picked were whoppers. They won’t discover it for another month or two, though, when their big religious festival comes up and they need to take the things out. By then this business will be done.”
“But you said they had to make sure they delivered us! If they’ve got the jewels . . .”
Mavra nodded. “I know, but they are also aware that I sent a sealed and secured packet with a courier into the Gekir capital and from there to Zone. The package is to be held for my pickup by the Glathrielian delegation, and if I don’t pick it up in six months, it’ll be opened and these boys will be fingered to the Gekir as the thieves. Simple, really.”
“Um, yeah, except I thought that the Glathrielians didn’t—”
Mavra put her hand up to his mouth, then put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh! What they don’t know won’t hurt us.”
Lori decided to let it drop, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the news. If something went wrong and the Gekir somehow discovered the theft before they were out of the country, then nothing could save them.
“I see now why you were a little nervous coming aboard,” he said.
She shook her head from side to side. “Uh uh. No problem with that. It’s just that I’ve never had good luck on ships, and even worse on the Well World, so I’m always a little spooked when I’m on them, that’s all.” She turned to leave. “I’m going topside and help the Dillians. Come on up when you want to.”
“Um—Mavra?”
“Yes, Lori?”
“Just out of curiosity—you said you’d been in the Brazilian jungles something like three hundred years or more. How did you get there way back then?”
“I was sold to a Portuguese ship’s captain in Macao for a beat-up old musket. The captain took a fancy to me when I was loaned out to him for some hospitality. He wanted something to relieve the tedium of a Pacific crossing. When he grew bored with me, he gave me to the mate. I went down in rank rapidly. I think if he’d been a couple of years older, I would have been with the cabin boy by the time we rounded the Horn and reached Brazil.”
“How horrible!”
“Yeah, I thought he was going to Africa. Pretty hard to escape when you’re in the middle of the Pacific. By the time we reached Brazil, I was so flipped out, I couldn’t even think. They painted me up, stripped me naked, claimed I was an Indian, and sold me to a sugar plantation for a couple of bottles of private-stock rum, I think. I wasn’t in any shape to pay much attention. For the next several years I cut cane and planted and harvested rice along with hundreds of black and Indian slaves. Slowly I absorbed the local languages, and some of it came back to me. It was okay, but the ownership changed and the new people were pretty vicious; they decided we should be whipped and worked into the ground until we dropped dead. There was a revolt—I don’t know the details because the men didn’t exactly take us women into their confidence—but somehow I wound up in the middle of it. I got picked up, and they decided to have some fun with me. I flipped out—it was as if the ship’s crew had suddenly reappeared. This time I fought, but it was hopeless. When they were done with me, they had revenge for my fighting and threats. They cut out my tongue, cut off my hands, and threw me in a swamp to die slowly.”
“My God!” he said.
“Instead, of course, I survived, made my way into the jungle, and managed on my own somehow, with no voice and just stumps for hands, until I was discovered by some hunters from a local Indian tribe. They took pity on me and took me in even though I was nothing but a burden on them; by their traditions they should have left me to die. It really wasn’t bad, and I was getting to like them, when, of course, I began regenerating, slowly, until it became apparent that I was growing new hands and a new tongue. It frightened the hell out of them. They decided I was some evil spirit and came to kill me, but I escaped back into the jungle, which by that time I knew very well.”
She paused for a moment, and Lori said, “You don’t have to say any more if you don’t want to. I understand.”
“No, that’s all right. You’re one of the few people who has a right to hear this out. Anyway, I lost all track of time, so I can’t say how long I lived alone in that jungle, but eventually I came across two Indian girls fleeing from another tribe who’d captured them in an intertribal squabble. We never asked each other questions and just sort of banded together to survive. Those two were the start of my own little tribe. They never asked who I was or what I was or anything, even later. Of course, as they continued to age and I did not, and particularly after I lost another limb out of carelessness to a crocodile and it grew back, they decided I wasn’t human but some kind of goddess. I spent some time long ago in Athens at its peak and in Sparta, and I remembered the legend of the Amazons, and it just seemed fitting. After that we searched out girls who’d been cast out. Centuries later we were still doing it. Frankly, you’re the first sentient male I’ve had any sort of conversation with, let alone friendship, in all that time.”