Bandon grunted and turned away. Chester went out into the street, his shadow pushing before him. A man stepped from the shelter of an ornamental fountain, bow in hand. Chester angled off to the right; a second man appeared, weapon ready.
“Just checking, fellows,” Chester said. He sauntered back, strolled fifty yards toward the dark woods before sentries appeared silently. He stopped, admired the view while the guards waited, then retraced his steps to the Hall.
“Time to eat,” Bandon called. “Grizz was just talkin’ mean,” he confided when Chester came up. “We’ve got plenty of good stuff here. Try these sardines.”
Chester eyed the soggy fish. “I’m afraid they’re not a favorite of mine. I’ll wait for the game course.”
“Salami on crackers?” Bandon suggested. “We cut off the bad part.”
“Any fruit—or berries?” Chester suggested. “Or nuts?”
“That’s stuff for squirrels and rabbits,” Bandon said shortly. “Hey, after the feast, we’re all goin’ to have a little shindig. You’ll enjoy it.”
“Ah, the true joys of the free life at last. What do you do, sing rousing songs, dance horn pipes, exchange buffets, all that sort of thing?”
“Heck, no. We view television. There’s some dandy historicals about the old times, when men were men.”
“I see. It’s a sort of indoctrination program.”
“Look here, you might as well quit smartin’ off. I tell you, this is the life. After a few years, you’ll start to see what I mean.”
“It’s not the years, it’s the next few hours that bother me. I dislike Tri-D intensely. Suppose I go back and tidy up your quarters for you while you enjoy the free life.”
“Suit yourself. You can’t get away. I’ll see that Grizz stays at the show so you can relax.”
“Thanks. I’ll try to arrange things at your place to give a more fitting reception to any unexpected callers who might drop in.”
9
It was three hours since the last sounds of revelry had died. In the palace, Chester sat awake, watching the red glow of the fireplace, and listening. In the corner Bandon snored softly on his pallet. Far away, a night bird called. Something creaked faintly near the door.
Chester crossed the room to Bandon, called his name softly. He grumbled, opened his eyes. “Hah?”
Chester put his face close to Bandon’s. “Quiet,” he breathed. “Grizz is at the door.”
Bandon started up. Chester held him by a hand on his arm. “Let him in. It’s better to take him here . . . alone.”
“He wouldn’t dare push his way into the palace,” Bandon whispered.
“Stay where you are.” Chester moved silently to the door, stood beside it in the dark. There was a rasping sound, very faint. Then the door moved an inch, paused for a full minute, moved again. From his place behind the heavy door post, Chester saw Grizz’s small eyes and bushy beard. Then the door moved wider; Grizz stepped inside, closed the door soundlessly. As he turned back toward the bed where Bandon lay, Chester rammed the stiff fingers of his left hand into Grizz’s stomach, then, as Grizz jackknifed forward, struck him backhanded under the ear with the side of his fist. Grizz fell with a heavy slam.
Bandon was on his feet now. “Don’t give the alarm, Bandon,” Chester whispered. “There’s nobody to hear it but his henchmen.”
Bandon said hoarsely, “What did he want here? How do you know—”
“Shhh. Grizz was after both of us, Bandon. If he knifed me, he’d have to finish you, too—or face Blue-Tooth later.”
“You’re ravin’. My people are loyal—includin’ Grizz.”
“Grizz was listening this evening when we were talking. He was afraid you’d be influenced. That gave him all the excuse he needed. So . . . here he is.”
“You come here to make trouble,” Bandon grated. “Like Grizz said.”
Chester pointed to a heap of uncured hides behind the crude table. “Conceal yourself over there and listen.”
Bandon reached up suddenly, took his bow from its peg on the wall, nocked the steel-tipped arrow. “I’ll hide,” he said. “An’ this will be pointed straight at you—so don’t try any tricks.”
“Be careful with that. I’d hate to be skewered by accident.”
Grizz was beginning to stir. Bandon stepped from sight in the shadows.
Grizz sat up, shook his head, got clumsily to his feet. He stood swaying, looked around the silent cabin and saw Chester, almost at his feet, curled up in the bed of rags, snoring lightly.
Grizz half crouched, pig eyes darting around the room. He took a knife from his belt, dug a moccasined toe into Chester’s side. Chester rolled on his back, opened his eyes and sat up.
“Where’s Bandon?” Grizz growled, the long blade tilted toward Chester’s throat.
“Oh, hi there,” said Chester. “Say, I hope you’re O.K. now after your fall.”
“I said where’s Bandon?”
Chester looked around. “Isn’t he here?”
“He slugged me and got away. Now, talk, Swamp-walker. What are yew tew love birds plannin’?”
Chester chuckled. “He’s the chief here; I’m just a captive Downlander, remember?”
“Yew’re a liar on bofe counts. Yew fink I’m dumb enough not tew see frew vis setup? The tew of yew are in somefing tewgevver. Where’s he gone?”
“If I help you, will you let me go?”
“Shewre.”
“You promise? I’ll have safe-conduct back to the valley if I tell you where Bandon is so you can kill him?”
“Yeah, I promise. Safe-conduct. Yew bet.”
“How do I know you’ll keep your promise?”
“Are yew sayin’ I’m a liar?” Grizz leaned closer with the knife.
“Careful. I haven’t told you yet.”
“Yew got my word on it: yew go free. Where is he?”
“Well . . . ” Chester came to his knees. “He’s on his way back to my Tricennium. He discovered you were taking over here, so he—”
“Fanks, sucker!” Grizz lunged with the knife. Chester threw himself back, yanking at a tripwire; a bucket of sand dropped from a rafter and took Grizz in mid-leap. He slammed the floor face first. Chester came to his feet holding the knife Grizz had dropped. Grizz moved groggily, shaking his head.
“Looks like you’re a promise-breaker after all, Grizz,” Chester said, moving in with the long blade ready.
Grizz scrabbled backward, one hand up to ward off a thrust. “Don’t dew it, don’t dew it!” he squalled.
“Keep your voice down. If anyone barges in, you’ll be the first to go.” Chester stood over Grizz. “Now, what about that promise you made? You were going to give me safe-conduct.”
“Shewre. I’ll see yew get away clean. Just leave it tew me.”
“I could kill you, Grizz. But that wouldn’t get me out of here.” Chester looked worried. “Suppose I let you go. Will you give me an escort down to the valley?”
“Shewre I will, yew bet I will, fella. I just got excited when yew said Bandon was on his way down.”
“Well, I guess I’ll give you another chance.” Chester put the knife in his belt. “But remember, you’ve given me your word.”
“Vat’s right, my word on it, fella.”
“I’ve got to get a couple of things . . . ” Chester turned away. In a lithe movement Grizz rolled to hands and knees, snatched up a rusted hatchet lying conveniently by, sprang at Chester’s back.
And slammed face first into the hard-packed earth floor as his toe hooked the wire Chester had stretched across the room at ankle height.
Chester turned, looked down sadly at Grizz. “You did it again, Grizz. Dear, oh dear. I’m afraid I have no choice but to cut your throat, since you’re not to be trusted.”
“Look,” whined Grizz, scraping dirt from his face. “I figured you wrong, see? I made a mistake.”
“You certainly did,” Chester said coldly. He moved closer, reached out and set the point of the blade under Grizz’s chin. “One sudden move, and in it goes. How would it feel, Grizz? They say a really keen edge feels cold as it slices through. There wouldn’t be too much pain, but breathing would get rather difficult, and, as the blood drained out of you, you’d get weak. In a few seconds you’d be unable even to stand. You’d just lie there and feel the life dwindle in you.”
“Don’t hurt me,” Grizz gasped. “I’ll dew anything.”
“Who sent you here?” Chester snapped.
“Joj did. He’s the one. He planned it all.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Vere’s over a fousand of us. We’ve got steel crossbows, even chemical bombs.” Grizz outlined plans for a raid on the nearest Tricennium. “It’s planned for free days from now,” he finished. “Vey haven’t got a chance against us. But yew . . . yew let me up now, no hard feelings, and I’ll see yew get yewr share. Whatever yew want—slaves, women . . . ”
“No point in my going back now,” said Chester thoughtfully. “I don’t want to be there when the massacre takes place.” He straightened, the knife still ready. “My best bet is to go along with you. I’m pretty good with a knife, Grizz. If I join you, do my share of the killing, will you pay off as you suggested?”