Farmer, Philip Jose – Riverworld 06 – ( Shorts) Tales of Riverworld

He quickly stuffed his few possessions in a fish-skin bag and grabbed the handle of his grail. Like the Arab in the night, I steal away, he thought. Except that I don’t have to take the time to fold my tent. He walked out of his room swiftly and sped down the narrow winding

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steps. He met no one until he got to the courtyard. Then he saw a dark figure ahead of him. He stopped, his heart beating harder than his running accounted for. But a lightning bolt revealed the face of the person who had struck such fear into him.

“Doctor Faustroll!”

The Frenchman tried to bow but had to grip the side of the table to keep from falling on his face.

“Doctor Davis, I presume?” he mumbled.

The American was going to hurry past him but was restrained by a charitable impulse. He said, “There’s uproar in Acheron, my good fellow. Now is the time to gain our freedom. Ivar was going to make a sneak attack on Arpad, but Arpad had the same idea about him. There’s the devil to pay, and Thorfinn, Ivar’s ally, has just shown up. Chaos will reign. We have an excellent chance of getting away during all the commotion.”

Faustroll put a hand on his forehead and groaned. Then he said, “Up the River? Our quests for the probably nonexistent?”

“Think, man! Do you want to remain a slave? Now’s the time, the only chance we may ever have!”

Faustroll bent to pick up his grail and fishing pole. He groaned again and said, “La merde primitive! The devil is using our head as an anvil.”

“I’m going,” Davis said. “You may come with me or not, as you please.”

“Your concern for us is touching,” the Frenchman said. “But we really don’t have to run. Though we’ve been in lifelong bondage, we have never been a slave. Unlike the billions of the conventional and the swine-minded, we have been free.”

A distant flash faintly illumined Faustroll. His eyes

CROSSING THE DARK RIVER

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were rolling as if he were trying to see something elusive.

“Stay here, then, and be free in your miserable bonds!” Davis shouted. “I felt it was my duty to tell you what is going on!”

“If it had been love compelling you, it would be different.”

“You’re the most exasperating man I’ve ever met!”

“The gadfly has its uses, especially if it is equipped not only with a fore sting but an aft sting.”

Davis snorted and walked away. But, by the time he had started down the hill from the tower, he heard Faustroll call out to him.

“Wait for us, my friend, if, indeed, you are that!”

Davis halted. He could not say that he liked the grotesque fellow. But…something in the absurd Frenchman appealed to him. Perhaps, Davis thought, it’s the physician in me. The man’s mad, and I should take care of him. I might be able to cure him someday.

More likely, it’s just that I don’t want to be alone. Crazed company is better than none. Sometimes.

The thunder and lightning had rolled on down the Valley. In a few minutes, the bright zigzags and the vast bowling-pin noises would be out of sight and out of ear. Then, as almost always, the downpour would stop as if a valve had been shut. The clouds would disappear within thirty minutes or so after that. And the star-filled sky would shed its pale fire on the pale weapons of the warriors and their dark blood. It would also make it easier for Faustroll and him to be seen.

Now he could faintly hear the frightening sounds of the clash. Shrill screams, deep cries, swords clanging, drums beating, and, now and then, the bellowing of a black

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gunpowder bomb as it destroyed itself in a burst of light. He also became aware that the tower, in which he had thought was no living soul, was as busy as a disturbed anthill. He turned to look back. Faustroll, panting, was just about to catch up with him. He was silhouetted by the many torches of the many people streaming from the tower.