He turned to Miran. “Which reminds me, why is it that the natives don’t use guns? They must have a chance to get their hands on many from the wrecks.”
The fat merchant shrugged and rolled his one good eye to indicate that he didn’t really know but was making a guess.
“Probably they’ve a taboo against using firearms. Whatever the reason, they’re evidently suffering because they neglect them. Look how few they are. Only fifty men! They must have lost quite a few through raids from other savage tribes, both from those who live upon the plain itself and from those who live on other roaming islands. They’re down to the point now where they must die out within a generation, even without help from such as those,” he said, pointing to the Ving ‘rollers.
“Yes, and I suppose that during the daytime, when the island is stopped, grass cats and dire dogs board it. These must take their toll of the humans.”
He gazed again at the red sails and wheels of the Vings. “I’d think that those pirates would take every island they could and would use them as bases from which to operate.”
“They do,” said Amra. “For a generation now the Vings have been scouring the plains, locating the islands and exterminating the savages on them. Then they’ve fortified the islands, so that you might say that today the Xurdimur is dominated by them. But there’s a drawback to an island as a harbor. No large ‘roller may get very close except in the daylight. They have to put out to grass every night and follow their base at a safe distance until dawn. However, though the Vings are well established on many roamers, they’re often attacked by the navies of various nations and sometimes driven off. Then the nation that takes possession of the island has a nice little base. And, of course, quite often they use it to launch heir own piratical ventures against the craft of countries at peace with them.
“Oh, the Xurdimur is a land where every man’s hand is against the other, and the devil take the ones with short sail! A man may make his fortune or break his heart, all in a night’s work. But, then, you know that only too well.”
Green interrupted, “We’ll leave them, and the natives, too, when moonlight gets here. I only hope that there aren’t other Ving craft in the neighborhood.”
“What the gods will, happens,” replied Miran. His sad face rejected the belief that if he, the favorite of Mennirox, could come to grief, then Green could expect even worse.
When dusk came, Green walked from the cave into the dark and hard rain. Behind him came Amra, one hand upon his shoulder, the other supporting Paxi. The rest were stretched out in a line behind her, each person’s hand on the shoulder of the one ahead.
The black cat was underneath Green’s coat, riding in a large pocket of his shirt. She had made it plain to him that where he went, she went. And Green, to avoid a big fuss and also because he was beginning to feel very affectionate toward her, allowed her to come along.
The descent from the hilltop was an anxious and stumbling trip. Green, after ten minutes of groping along the path, had to acknowledge he did not know where he was. So many windings had the path taken that he did not know whether he was going east, north, south, or in the right direction, west.
Actually, it didn’t really matter, as long as it brought him to the edge of the island. He could skirt the edge until he arrived at the fleet craft that would give them a chance for flight.
The trouble was in finding that rim. He was afraid that it would be possible to wander in circles and figure eights until moonlight. Then, though they’d be able to orient themselves, they’d also be exposed to the view of the cannibals. And if they found themselves, say, at the eastern edge, their journey around would be perilous indeed.
Occasional lightning flashed, and then he could make out his immediate environment. These brief revelations weren’t much help. All he could see were the solid-seeming walls of tree trunks and bushes.