Pyramid Scheme by Dave Freer and Eric Flint

“Run? I didn’t think we could outrun those things,” said Lamont, checking his homemade jacket-and-bandolier backpack, complete with his precious boombox.

“The size of their mouth and lungs is going to make sufficient respiration interesting,” mused Liz. “They’re probably much less efficient runners than a horse, at a guess. And humans can outrun horses, over a stretch.”

“Well, I certainly couldn’t outrun them. Not now—or ever,” said Jerry. “Although I could eat a horse right now.”

“That lot looked more ready to eat us,” complained McKenna. “They just saw us and went on the hunt, no questions asked. Good thing they didn’t catch us out on the flat.”

Jerry chuckled. “True. So here we sit like a row of monkeys on a ledge instead.”

Lamont smiled. “Me see-no-evil, you hear-no-evil and him speak-no-evil. Who are the last ones then, Jerry?”

“Well, the corporal is feel-no-evil, now that Odysseus is gone,” said Liz, with a wry grin, “and in my case, I’m smoke-no-evil.” She sighed. “I’m going up to have a look-see. Been no rocks or noise for a while now.”

Feel-no-evil looked up. Listened carefully. “Yeah, but where do you want to go to, Liz?”

Smoke-no-evil stood up and felt for a handhold above the small overhang. “In search of dinner. If we go back down to the coast I can always catch something. Even up here we might be able to snare some small game.”

“Yes, but what about the centaurs?” said Jerry.

She shrugged. “We’ll just have to keep a lookout. If we get down to the beach again we can probably swim away from them. Although there are probably sharks and sea monsters and heaven knows what else in this water. It’s that or sit here and starve. I’ve been meaning to go on a diet for a while, but this is a bit radical.”

* * *

It went without saying that the only sign of the ship on the beach, when they finally found their way back there, was the keel mark on the sand.

Off to one side of the bay, there was a low cliff with steep and seaweedy rocks around its base. “Should be safe from centaurs along there,” mused Cruz, looking at it.

Lamont nodded. “We’ll have to see if we can find an overhang or a cave or something. You guys scout. Jerry needs to sit for a bit.”

“I’m fine,” said the mythographer.

“If you weren’t sunburned, you’d be as pale as a ghost,” said Liz grimly. “You look as if you’re about to fall down.”

McKenna nodded his agreement. “Yeah, Doc. Take a rest.”

Jerry sat down on the sand. “Liz is as much a ‘Doc’ as I am.”

McKenna grinned. “I think I’d rather call her ‘Sir.’ ”

Liz threw the rock she’d been carrying at him.

* * *

“It smells and even looks like garlic,” Jerry said doubtfully.

Liz nodded. “It’s certainly a species of allium. And this is definitely fennel. I saw some sage back there, too. And there was lavender at the edge of the gorge.”

“You certainly know your herbs,” said Jerry, impressed.

She scowled fiercely. “My mother. She’s kooky about all that herbal stuff. I have drunk more vile-tasting tisanes than I care to think about.”

“Well, at least we can flavor anything we catch,” he replied, pacifically. “And if the worst comes to the worst we can eat the herbs.”

She pulled a face. “Yuck. I’ll try my hand at fishing.” The cornucopia-shoulderbag had yielded a spool of dental floss. The changes had probably altered its nature but it was still a fine strong line. She’d claimed a five-yard piece as her own, before offering the rest for future bird snares. There were no pins or safety pins, but the bag debris had yielded no less than seven paper clips of different sizes. Liz had been painstakingly trying to fashion hooks, when Lamont had come along. “Can I do it for you, Miz?”

She held it out to him. “Please call me Liz. Please.” She smiled appealingly.

Lamont was not proof against the smile. “I’m a maintenance man . . . Liz. I’ll turn those into hooks.”

Liz smiled again. “I’m not handy. I’d be glad if you did.”