The Bones of Zora

III - THE RANCH

A faint orange of dawn appeared through the cracks in the shutters as Reith and Marot began packing for their journey. Then came a timid knock on their bedroom door. As Marot started for the door, Reith held up a cautioning hand.

"Hold it!" he whispered. "On this world, you don't fling open a door to just anybody."

Drawing his dagger halfway, Reith shot back the bolt and pulled the door open a crack. Outside stood a small Krishnan wearing priestly garments.

"Master Reese?" said this one in a stage whisper. "Let me in, pray! I am in peril dire."

The Krishnan appeared unarmed; but then, his voluminous clerical habit of gray kilt and high-buttoned jacket could easily hide a dagger. Reith said over his shoulder in English: "Get your sword, Aristide, just in case." He turned back. "All right, come in. Who are you?"

The little Krishnan ducked a bow. "Nirm bad-O'lán, a humble servant of Yesht."

"Who is Yesht?" asked Marot.

"The old Varasto god of the underworld," Reith replied. Turning back to the priest, he asked: "Are you, then, a priest of Yesht?"

"Aye, my lord. That's wherefore I am in peril."

"Explain, pray."

"Sir, since the High Priestess Lazdai came to power, the Bákhites have striven to suppress all rival cults and to force their creed upon all Chilihaghuma, on pain of cruel punishment. Now, on the pretext that we Yeshtites practice human sacrifice, she hath persuaded the Dasht to outlaw our holy cultus and declare forfeit the lives of its votaries."

"What do you want of us?" said Reith.

"I've heard that in some Terran lands, governments are forbidden to interfere with religion."

"Yes; that's the case in my native country. But why—?"

"Then, sir, I can count upon your sympathy, can I not? I must needs flee Jeshang. Learning that you twain are on the way to Kubyab, I bethought me that I might join you."

"In what capacity?" asked Reith.

"Oh, I can offer prayers for your safety and by divination warn you of bad luck and stormy weather."

"Does your cult in fact practice human sacrifice?"

"Nay! That is a vile falsehood," said Nirm indignantly. "Never would the god of justice countenance the shedding of innocent blood."

"We have heard of such rites at the Temple of Yesht in Zanid."

The priest raised his hands. "For aught I know, that may be sooth. The worship of Yesht in Balhib is independent of that in Chilihagh. We know little of their practices, for we and they are not on terms of friendship. Belike the Balhibuma have fallen into evil ways."

"If I understand him," said Marot in English, "this little Krishnan seems worthy of our sympathy. Could we not let him join us?"

The Yeshtite peered in anxious incomprehension from one Terran to the other. Reith said: "No, sir! Now that we're on the good side of the Dasht, it's our business to stay there. Besides, we don't even know if this lad is telling the truth. He might be a plant."

"A plant? He does not look like a vegetable—"

"I mean, he may have been sent, perhaps by the Dasht, perhaps by the Temple of Bákh, to see if we're playing a double game."

"Such suspicion! And you once called me paranoid because I accused Foltz of plotting to impede us."

"You may have been right about Foltz. It just means we must be wary of everybody: Foltz and this little fellow both. In several years on Krishna, I've had more narrow squeaks than I like to remember. So I don't take more chances than I can help." To the Krishnan, Reith said: "It grieves me, Father Nirm, but I fear we cannot accommodate you."

"Oh, good my lords, I beg you—"

"Leave off the begging, for it will do no good. For one thing, we shall work in the western part of the Dashtate, where the Bákhites could still lay hands upon you. When we're finished there, we shall return through Jeshang, where your enemies could seize you. I fear, my good Nirm, that you ask the impossible."

The Krishnan's shoulders drooped. "Ah, me! Then I may end up in Lazdai's Kettle after all."

"What's that?"

"The Cauldron of Repentance, it is called, wherein convicted heretics and unbelievers are boiled to death."

"Why don't you quietly quit the priesthood and take up some less risky trade?" suggested Reith.

"What, abandon my holy faith from motives of self-interest? That were base and cowardly! I may not be Qarar reincarnate, but I can face my doom with becoming dignity!"

The little Krishnan turned to leave, then froze as another knock, more emphatic, rattled the door. " 'Tis the priests of Bákh, come to hale me hence!" he whispered. "Save me!"

"Get under the bed," said Reith.

As Nirm scuttled beneath the bed like some great gray cockroach seeking shelter from the housewife's broom, Reith stepped to the door and again opened it a crack. Before him stood a Krishnan in a black-and-white habit, similar in form to Nirm's garb.

Ostentatiously yawning, Reith mumbled: "What is it? What—who are you? You awoke me ..."

"Your pardon, my masters," said the one without. "Have you seen a small knave slinking about in garb of an outlawed priesthood?"

"No, we have seen no one," said Reith, smothering another yawn. "My fellow Ertsu and I were sound asleep until you knocked."

"None hath sought admission to your chamber?"

"If any knocked earlier, we failed to hear it." 'Then, forgive the intrusion. Bákh bless you!"

The Krishnan made a benedictory gesture and departed. Closing and bolting the door, Reith turned to Marot. "It was a priest of Bákh all right, and I don't mean Johann Sebastian. Our little fellow had better stay under the bed for a while, till we're sure the other priest has gone for good."

"Who is this Qarar of whom he spoke?"

"The Krishnan Herakles. There's a whole cycle of legends about his labors—six according to some, nine according to others. Qarar is supposed to have slain assorted monsters and impregnated an astronomical number of females, including a she-yeki."

"I find impregnating a female of my own species quite sufficiently taxing," said Marot. "Do you ask me to gratify a lioness or a she-bear as well!"

Reith peered under the bed. "Come on out, Nirm. Why don't you go somewhere where your cult still flourishes and you'd be welcome?"

Nirm crawled out and dusted himself. "The Temple of Yesht in Jazmurian is said to retain the pure worship. But how can I get thither? A riverboat leaves in two days, but the fare is twenty karda. Because of the persecution, the offerings of the faithful have been meager; and my entire wealth is sixteen karda." He withdrew the small hoard from his purse and displayed it.

Marot took four silver coins from his purse. "Here, my friend, take these," he said, ignoring Reith's disapproving frown. "But do not, I pray you, tell anyone from whom they came."

"I understand, my lord!" said Nirm, dropping to his knees and touching his forehead to the ground before the scientist.

"Come, come," said Marot. "Terrans do not like such excessive homage. Get up, I pray!"

"I am eternally grateful! I shall offer prayers to Yesht for you all the rest of my life!"

"That's fine," said Reith, "but right now we'd rather see you on your way. Change into ordinary garb, and get aboard your boat as soon as you're allowed." He opened the door, and the priest, glancing nervously about, disappeared.

"I hope they don't boil the poor little devil," said Reith. "But half the Terrans who get killed on Krishna do so as a result of well-meant interference in Krishnan affairs. My former wife is such a meddler; if it hasn't killed her yet, it probably will. So don't let your generous heart lead you down that garden path."

Reith had calculated that the journey to Kubyab would take three days. They spent four days on the road, however, because for most of a day a storm imprisoned them in their tent. It began as a sandstorm. A black wall of sand and dust swept across the sky and sped towards them. Preceding the storm were clouds of whirling black specks, flocks of bat-winged bijars and aqebats fleeing the storm.

Reith and Marot hastily set up their tent, driving the pegs extra deep against the anticipated gale. Before they had quite finished, the air began to churn with flying sand. For the next several hours they huddled inside, hearing the howl of the wind and wondering how soon the bellying canvas would be whirled away. Then thunder boomed, and the sand gave way to a downpour, beating against the tent walls like a regiment of drummers. During lulls, they peered out to see whether their ayas had broken loose; but the animals stoically stood in a clump, facing down-wind, with lowered heads and closed eyes.

When the storm was over, the floor of the tent was a morass of mud. Although there were but a couple of hours left of the long Krishnan day, Reith and Marot packed their soggy gear and moved on in hope of finding a drier spot to spend the night.

The farther west they went, the sparser became the vegetation. Between rare stands of trees, mostly along creeks, stretched open terrain. The Krishnan equivalents of grasses and herbs, plants with stems and leaves of green and blue and gold and crimson, provided a ragged cover for the red, clayey soil.

On the evening of the fourth day, they rode into Kubyab. As they ambled down the unpaved main street, Reith remarked: "I take back any nasty things I said about Jeshang. Compared to this godforsaken place, Jeshang is a metropolis!" He hailed a belated pedestrian. "Good my sir, can you direct us to an inn?"

The Krishnan looked around, warily studied the strangers, and answered; but his local dialect was spoken too fast for Reith to follow.

"Slowly, I pray!" said Reith.

At last the Krishnan made Reith understand that there was no such thing as an inn in Kubyab. Reith then asked: 'Then where can travelers pass the night?"

"I can put you up in my house," said the local, "for a price."

"How much?"

The Krishnan hesitated, then said: "Half a kard for each, and another half-kard for stabling and feeding your beasts."

Marot began in English: "That seems reason—" but Reith cut him off saying: "Too much for a pair of poor travelers. Make it a kard total, including the beasts."

The Krishnan paused, then said: "Be ye not Ertsuma? We see few hereabouts."

"Yes, we're Terrans. How about the price?"

"Everyone knows that Terrans are richer than Dakhaq. So why would a pair of great, rich lords like you be stingy with a poor countryman like me?"

"Because you wrongly think Terrans have bottomless purses and therefore quote us far above the customary rate. I'll tell you: Make it a kard total, and my friend and I will answer all your questions about our own far-off world."

"That be a canny offer. I'll take it, fair sirs. Come hither, pray."

The house proved a two-room shack. The Krishnan introduced a slatternly wife and three dirty children. He indicated that the guests should have the only bed in the house; he and his family would sleep on the floor in the other room.

When they were alone, Marot asked: "Why did you screw that half-kard out of the poor paysan, Fergus? My Institute would never have noticed it."

"Because I've dealt with such people. If you take the first offer, they think you're half-witted and they can cheat, rob, or murder you with impunity. If they think we're sharp fellows, alert for any tricks, they're less likely to try them. All the same, we'd better stand watches tonight."

Supper consisted mainly of what Terrans called "live spaghetti," a form of edible Krishnan worm with the disconcerting property of continuing to wriggle after boiling for hours in the countryman's big iron pot. Marot sighed.

"When I get back to France," he said, "I shall sit down in a good restaurant and eat myself into my grave. I am no great gourmet, and I try to adapt myself and not complain, but this! C'est épouvantable donc!"

"What saith he?" asked the householder, whose name was Hendová.

"He praises your food," said Reith. "He says he has never eaten aught like it."

The Krishnan simpered. "Oh, come, sir, ye know I be but a simple countryman; but my wife will be glad to hear it ..."

Afterwards, Reith and Marot sat for an hour answering questions about the planet Earth. The oldest child built a fire on the hearth, since in these drier lands the temperature rose and dropped sharply between day and night. At length Reith asked:

"Where does Squire Sainian bad-Jeb live?"

"The squire?" answered Hendová. "Why, in the big house at the north end of the village! 'Tis the biggest house for many a hoda around. Ye maun have seen it—but I forget, ye entered the town from t'other end."

"Is the squire at home?"

"Aye. He passed me on the street, in's carriage, but yesterday."

"We need to hire some folk to help us. Can you recommend any?"

"How many, and what would ye have them for?"

"We need two workers, to dig and haul earth and do camp chores. Then we should like a couple of trustworthy men who can handle arms, to serve as guards."

Hendová paused, chin on fist. At last he said: "I cannot serve you. I'm the town's carpenter; my apprentice is sick; and I'm tardy on orders. My cousin Doukh is to be had; he's strong as a shaihan. But ye maun keep at him, since he's as lazy as an unha in's wallow. As for the other—well, old Girej is still hale, an ye can keep him off the drink. Had ye come a moon earlier, ye'd have had a wider choice."

"What happened then?"

"Why, t'other Terran hired six of our best men—the best not rooted in their present tasks, ye wite."

"By the other Terran," asked Reith, "do you mean Warren Foltz?"

"Aye. He had some such outlandish name, but I couldn't put my tongue to it."

"How about the guards?" asked Reith.

"There again, we had two retired soldiers, who'd fit your desires like the skin of a qasb, but t'other Terran hired them both."

"The first thing tomorrow, will you take us to the two you named as workers?"

"Aye, if ye start early. I maun be at my bench by sun-up." Reith and Marot passed an uneasy night, disturbed by many-legged Krishnan scuttlers, which got in under their blanket with them and had to be chased out or squashed.

When Reith knocked on Sainian's door, he heard sounds of movement within; but for long minutes the door remained closed. Then it opened suddenly, and Reith found himself confronting three armed Krishnans. In the middle stood a lean, elderly person with a sword. Like other Terrans, Reith found the age of a Krishnan hard to judge; but the network of fine, small wrinkles on the swordsman's face and the paling of his hair to the gray-green of light jade gave evidence of many years' passage.

The other two, flanking the aged Krishnan, were young males clad in the costume of the Chilihagho shaihan-herd. Beneath the triangle of checkered cloth worn like a diaper and serving the function of riding breeches, they wore lace-trimmed white pantelettes tucked into high, soft boots. Large silver spurs, with star-shaped rowels, were attached to these boots by loops of silver chain. Above the waist they wore leather vests that left bare their arms and part of their chests. On their heads were large, floppy, yellow straw hats with meter-wide brims, low skull-hugging crowns, and ribbons tied under the chin. Each bore a cocked crossbow, aimed at Reith's midriff.

"You are right, Fergus," murmured Marot. "One does not fling the door open to anyone."

"What would ye, Terran?" said the oldster in the center.

"Good-morning, sir," said Reith. "Are you Sainian bad-Jeb?"

"What if I be?"

"The Dasht referred me to you. He's given permission to my companion, the learned Doctor Marot, to dig for buried bones in his realm; but he advised me to ask your permission before entering your land."

The Krishnans exchanged puzzled glances. The elder one said: "Strange. Within a ten-day, another Ertsu hath told the same tale and made the same request. Ye be the third set we've seen within the year. Who are ye?"

"My name is Fergus Reith. I work out of Novorecife, guiding visitors from Terra about your fascinating planet. I am now under contract to guide and protect Doctor Marot."

Sainian mused: "This other wight averred the Dasht had given him the exclusive right to dig for bones—an occupation that, if it be true, goes far to prove Terrans a mad race; unless, that be, 'tis but a pretence to disguise a hunt for treasure. Kharob's no ninny; how could he so brazenly contradict his own words, unless one permit or the other be a forgery? Let me see yours."

Marot produced the paper with Kharob's signature and seal. Sainian frowned. "This seems in order, albeit I am no scholar adept at detecting forgeries."

"If you will note," said Reith, "the other fellow got exclusive right to dig in rocks and soil of the Zorian Age, whereas our permit applies to terrain of the Kharobian Period. There is thus no conflict."

"Rocks are rocks; soil is soil. Wherein lies the distinction?"

Marot said: "Please excuse my bad Mikardandou; but the Kharobian layers of rock are the older and lie beneath Zorian. If I may show a map ...Here! Zorian beds extend approximately from here to here; the Kharobian from the latter line to river Zora."

"Certes, that's my land," growled Sainian. "I think not that this other Terran, clept Folt, said aught of Kharobian beds. But ye shall have permission—save that of any gold, silver, or jewels ye find, I shall have half."

"Agreed," said Reith.

"Speaking of names," said Sainian, "what said ye yours was?"

"Fergus Reith, sir."

"Methought I'd heard that name erstwhile. Are ye not the Terran who thrice escaped captivity in Dur—the third time after being forced to wed the Regent's cousin?"

"I am."

"Oh, well, that's different! Come in, come in! Stand not gaping in the doorway, admitting all the flying vermin! I've heard of your feats. Unload your shooting gear, lads."

As the two shaihan-herds turned away, Sainian ushered his visitors into a spacious room, decorated with the heads of Krishnan beasts on the walls and their cured hides on the floor.

"Sit down, sit down," said the squire. "When left ye Jeshang? How fared ye on the road? Where spent ye the past night?"

When he heard of the travelers' bug-infested bed in Hendová's hovel, Sainian said: "Ohé! That's no way to treat eminent visitors from afar. Ye shall move your gear hither. We have a plenty of space, since our silly son went off to Hershid to study art, instead of learning to run the ranch."

"That's very kind of you," said Reith. He and Marot exchanged glances. Marot said:

"Please, Squire Sainian, how long does it take to get from here to beds I showed on map?"

"With a fast aya, not above two hours; with a slower one, up to three."

"Then," said Marot before Reith could protest, "I am desolated, but I fear we must decline. To take away four to six hours from each working day, coming and going, would not leave us the time needed for our work."

Reith subsided. While being Sainian's guest would be infinitely more comfortable than bunking with Marot in a tent, he had to admit that the paleontologist's reason was valid. Sainian replied:

"I grieve that ye won't be here to liven our evenings with tales of far fantastic adventures. But the hour of the repast draws nigh, and ye shall stay now to bare a tooth with us." He turned in his chair and shouted: "Babir! Set two more places. We have visitors. Now, my Terran friends, ye'll have, I trust, no religious or other objections to a drop of kvad?"

The golden kvad was the strongest Reith had drunk; the first swallow almost made him choke. But their host gulped it down as if it were water. By the time the meal was announced, the squire had drunk enough, by Reith's estimate, to have put three ordinary men beneath the table; but he seemed not to show it save to become a little more boisterously hospitable.

"Come, gentlemen," he said. "After the fancy aliment of decadent cities like Majbur and Jazmurian, our plain fare must seem sorry stuff. But 'twill keep your bellies away from your spines."

Reith and Marot sat down with Sainian, the two shaihan-herds, and Sainian's wife Ilui. The food, served by the servant Babir, proved excellent. Sainian said: "Ye'll take it not amiss, I trust, that ye received a wary reception enow? One must be careful in these parts. It might have been young Ye'man, from across the Zora; he's lusted for my blood ever since I slew his sire."

"I understand a reasonable precaution," said Reith. "But tell us about Foltz. With whom did he come here?"

"That I know not, for he approached my house alone. A prim, offish wight, not open like ye twain. I heard he had with him some folk from Jeshang and more hired in Kubyab. I sent one of my shaihan-herds to make sure that, an he found treasure, he'd divide it fairly with me. I'd do the same with you gentlemen, but I cannot spare more men. Two I need to protect my home, and the rest are out on the yearly roundup."

Reith suggested: "You could tell the fellow with Foltz to alternate between Foltz's camp and ours. We shan't be more than a few hoda apart, and we have nothing to hide."

"I'll think on that," said Sainian.

Reith continued: "You said, sir, we were the third set of Terrans to come here in the past year. Was the first man named Esteban Surkov?"

"Aye, so 'twas. The bugger spake of making's living by writing books, as if we'd believe anyone could earn his badr in so fantastical a fashion."

"What became of him?" asked Reith.

"I shot him."

"What?"

"I said, I shot him. I'd warned him against leaving gates open, not once but twice. The third time, a score of my beasts escaped, and one we never did find. So I put a bolt through Master Surkov's right eye and into that mess of pottage he called his brain. Neatest shot I'd made in years! I fain had had his head mounted with those of other beasts I'd slain, but Ilui thought it in poor taste. Ye know how women are. Now tell me how things fare in the lands betwixt here and Novorecife."

For the rest of the meal, the replies of Reith and Marot were subdued; but the squire seemed not to notice. He plied them with questions and urged more food upon them.

"Come, good my sirs," he said, after wolfing down a plateful that would have done credit to a hungry yeki, "stint yourselves not! When ye've camped out a while, ye'll wish ye'd eaten more here whilst ye had the chance."

"Thank you, Squire," said Reith, "but I've reached the point where I can still chew but cannot swallow. And we must be off to the Kharobian beds. Since we don't know the country, we'd prefer not to go blundering about in darkness looking for our site."

"That shall be no problem. I'll send one of my boys to guide you thither, albeit he cannot long remain with you." Sainian turned to one of the shaihan-herds. "Herg, ye'll do that duty.

Tarry not at these Terrans' camp, but hasten back."

As they rose, Sainian said: "This hath been a pleasure, gentlemen. I have not so enjoyed myself since the day I slew the three bad-Faroun brothers. Oh, ere I forget, keep a sharp eye out for a band of outlaws, headed by one Basht. They'd as lief slit your weasand as look at you."

Outside, Herg led his own aya, a glossy buckskin, around to the front of the house. He said: "Master Reese, this is my personal steed. Would ye care to ride him? He'll give you a fine ride, the like of which ye've never known."

Reith realized that all the Krishnans—Sainian, Ilui, and the two shaihan-herds—were staring expectantly at him. He also caught a glint of suppressed mirth in Herg's eyes.

"I'm most grateful," he said. "But I'm not a very skilled rider, and I might in my ignorance mishandle your fine beast. I'll stay with my own, if you please. Come, Aristide. We shall be back soon, with our animals and gear."

As they walked back to Hendová's house, Marot asked: "Why did you decline the use of that fine mount?"

"These people have a reputation as great jokers. I'm sure that, if I'd forked that cayuse, the beast would have gone crazy and either bucked me off or run away the way that other did with you. They were hoping for something like that; and if I'd broken my neck, that would have added to the fun."

Half an hour later, they returned to the squire's house prepared for the journey. Sainian waved them off, calling: "Forget not to close any gates ye pass through!"

"Little danger of that," muttered Reith.

Leading their pack ayas, Reith and Marot rode with Herg. Doukh and Girej followed on foot, leading a small aya on which they had loaded their personal possessions and a folded tent. Hiring them had occasioned a long haggle, since the villagers had demanded extra pay because of the danger of outlaws. When Herg asked them if they knew "the place on the riverbank where the tax collector was slain," they assured him that they were familiar with the spot and urged the others to ride on ahead.

"We shall be with you ere sundown," said Girej.

Red Roqir was low in the west, banding the greenish Krishnan sky with scarlet and gold, when the travelers reached the area that Marot had chosen. The paleontologist said:

"Fergus, let me pick the place of our camp. I have done this before." He asked the shaihan-herd in Mikardandou: "Master Herg, how high does the Zora rise during floods?"

"Let me think," said the Krishnan. "In the third year of Dasht Kavir, it came to the top of yonder ridge." He pointed. "That's the highest whereof I've heard."

Marot walked his aya to the ridge and cast a sharp eye along an imaginary contour line. "Wait here!" he called, and spurred his mount to a trot. Back and forth he went, and up and down the shores of the river. A quarter-hour later, as the sun touched the horizon, he returned.

"I have a suitable place," he said. "Follow me, please."

Reith thought that the paleontologist had shrewdly picked a site safely above high-water mark but still within easy walking distance of the river. The earth was mostly bare, a reddish clay formed by the disintegration of shale, and littered with sandstone pebbles and an occasional boulder. It sloped down in a long, easy incline to the river on either side, and from the top of the slope rolled gently off into the distance. Away from the river, plants grew more thickly. Many were spiky or thorny multi-colored herbs and bushes, with stretches of bare red soil between.

There was no sign of Doukh or Girej. Reith shouted for them, but only silence answered. As Roqir slipped below the skyline, Krishnan night life began its endless symphony of chirps, squeaks, and buzzes.

"It looks as if we'll have to put up our tent ourselves," said Reith.

"Need ye a hand?" said Herg. "Thanks," said Reith.

When the tent was up, the Krishnan said: "I maun be off to Kubyab. The chief will send a man down to see how ye fare betimes."

"Good-night," said Reith, then to Marot: "Those two so-called workers aren't here yet."

Marot shrugged. "Perhaps they got lost, or changed their minds, or met with an accident."

"Maybe I ought to go back along the trail to look for them."

"Do not think of it, I beg you! Casting about in strange country in the dark would merely get you lost, also."

Reith was not unhappy to let himself be argued out of a nocturnal search, although his overdeveloped sense of responsibility nipped him. He and Marot cooked a simple meal.

Reith poked his head out of the tent the next morning and saw a family of slender-legged Krishnan herbivores drinking on the far side of the river. When he opened the flaps and emerged, the creatures looked up, snorted, and bounded away up the bank.

Later, Reith set out on the sorrel aya to cast back along the trail for signs of the camp workers. He moved slowly, staring about to fix in his mind the contours of the land, and halted now and then to consult Marot's map. It was easy to get lost in this roadless, rolling country with few obvious landmarks. He passed a herd of Sainian's shaihans, massive pied brown-and-white beasts, munching away at the scanty vegetation. The animals stared dully at him and resumed their repast.

An hour later, Reith came upon Girej and Doukh, sprawled on the turf with an empty bottle beside them. Their aya was tethered nearby. Reith dismounted and, holding his reins, stood over the recumbent forms. Both breathed; Girej even snored. Reith nudged the huge Doukh with the toe of his boot. The Krishnan awoke, looked up, and grinned sheepishly.

"What in Hishkak are you doing here?" barked Reith. "We expected you at the camp last night."

"Well, sir," grumbled Doukh. " 'Twas this way. After we'd walked for an hour, we stopped to rest our feet. And old Girej had a bottle to strengthen us for the rest of the journey. I drank but a few swallows; but the miching losel finished it off ere I could stop him. Then there was no getting him to's feet to travel on."

"Why didn't you come on yourself, with the aya?"

"Why, sir! Think ye I'd leave a comrade lying insensible drunk in the wild, where a kargán or a yeki could come upon and devour him? What sort of rudesby think ye I be?"

"Well, get him up now," growled Reith. "He's had time enough to sleep it off. This'll cost you two each half a day's pay."

At length Reith and the workers straggled in to camp, Doukh leading the pack aya and Girej mumbling: "Oh, my poor head!"

Marot came running up, puffing. "Fergus! I think that I have found a promising bed!"

Reith dismounted, handed his reins to Girej, and gave the two Krishnans their orders. He said to Marot: "Show it to me, old boy!"

Scientist and guide walked a hundred meters upstream. Pointing with his geologist's hammer, Marot said: "This patch of gravel is the mouth of a former stream bed. Under the pebbles is Z—I mean Kharobian sandstone. Luckily it is soft near the surface. These pebbles have been carried down from fossil-bearing beds higher up. I know because they include many fossil fragments." Marot bent and picked up an apparent pebble. "See!" he said. "It is a fragment from the dorsal spine of a piscoid, which on Terra we should call a fish. It is not of course related to our fishes, but has evolved along parallel lines. Here is another."

Marot showed a second pebble to Reith, glanced at the two specimens through his magnifying glass, and tossed them away.

"Aren't you going to save those?" asked Reith.

"No. I can collect a basketful any time. Since they are not in situ and are not connected with the rest of the skeleton, they would tell me nothing that I do not already know. But they point the way to possible significant discoveries."

For the next hour they wandered back and forth about the area. Marot found several small fossils: a curved, reptilian-looking fang three centimeters long; an unidentified vertebra; and a teardrop-shaped stone which, he explained, was a coprolite—the fossilized turd of some bygone aquatic creature.

Reith was roaming over a patch of red sandstone more or less free from its overlay of pebbles when, in a little depression, he noticed a streak of pale gray amid the brownish red of the rock. Looking closer, he saw that this material had a certain regularity, like that of a string of beads.

"Aristide!" he called. "Would you look at this? I don't suppose it's anything at all, but you might ..."

Marot approached. "Hein!" he said. "I assure you, my friend, it certainly is something. It is a vertebral column. Here is a vertebra that has become detached from the matrix." He picked up what to Reith looked like an ordinary dark-brown stone. "Let us look further."

Marot squatted over the streak and, with a whiskbroom, began cleaning the coating of dust from the disintegrated sandstone of the surface.

"Ha!" said the paleontologist. "This is a rib. And here is another." As further streaks came into view, Marot poked at the crumbling surface with a dull old sheath knife, swept away the loose fragments, and poked some more.

"This is remarkable luck," he said. "We might have spent a moon poking about without finding a thing."

"What can I do to help?" said Reith, keeping his excitement under control.

"Oh, go walk around here and bring me anything that looks like a fossil."

Marot laid out the tools of his trade: a geologist's hammer, with one sharp and one squared-off end; a whiskbroom; a blunt knife; and a small pick, about half the weight of a normal pick, with an eighty-centimeter handle.

"What do you call that little pick?" asked Reith.

"That is a Marsh pick," said the scientist.

Reith frowned. "Seems like a funny kind of tool for dredging a swamp."

"No; it is not that kind of marsh—un marais. This pick is named for the great American paleontologist, Othniel Charles Marsh, who designed it three hundred years ago. In the nineteenth century, he it was who furnished the convincing fossil proof of the organic evolution of all organisms.

"This Marsh was also, I regret to say, something of a scoundrel. He was accused even of stealing or destroying the fossils of rival paleontologists, to rob them of the credit for their discoveries. I would not kill a man, even to prevent a crime of less than murder against me; but such a man, if I found him destroying knowledge, I would kill!" Marot shook a fist.

Reith started off, head bent and eyes on the ground. During the next hour, while Marot poked and swept, Reith picked up several pieces that looked interesting. Some, on presentation, were pronounced mere stones. Some turned out to be fossilized plant stems. One was a nearly complete dorsal spine, and three were teeth.

Then Reith brought back a peculiar-looking piece, which resembled petrified bone; but Reith could not imagine what part of any creature it might be.

"That is a piece of skull!" cried Marot. "Mais, c'est magnifique! See, here is part of the orbit. Where did you find it?"

"Let's see—I think ..." Reith walked uncertainly to a spot a few paces away. "I think it was about here. But to me, every patch of pebbles looks pretty much like every other."

"That is close enough. Pile some stones one upon another to mark the place, and see if you can find more fragments. That piece of skull may be from our specimen here."

Reith built his little cairn, resolving, if he ever found such a thing again, instantly to mark the spot in this manner. Then, as he began turning over stones, he found part of a jaw with teeth attached, and another piece of skull. When Marot looked up to identify this last find, Reith asked:

"Aristide, supposing these are from the same animal, what sort of critter would it have been?"

"At this stage," replied Marot, "I can give only the educated guess. It is a fishlike or salamanderlike creature, perhaps a meter in length. It had a very simple construction, as far as we can tell; no strange horns, or spines, or other ornaments. Now continue with your hunting; you appear to have the luck of the beginner."

As the long Krishnan day wore on, Marot continued his digging and Reith his search for surface finds. Reith thought he began to recognize the distinctive colors and textures that distinguished fossils from ordinary stones. At least, of the finds he brought to Marot for judgment, the percentage of fossils seemed on the increase. When he brought another specimen, Marot said:

"Look here, Fergus."

The Frenchman pointed to a depression he had dug in one side of the specimen. Here could be seen a cluster of small bones, just breaking the surface.

"If I do not let my hopes deceive me," said Marot, "this is a set of limb bones; but I cannot yet tell whether they are the bones of a genuine leg, or the base of a lobed fin, or something in between. It is well that I have a strong heart, or the suspense would kill me. It is time we went back for lunch. Hand me that aya hide from the pack, please."

Marot spread the hide across the specimen and weighted the corners with stones. "This will make it easier to locate again and will protect it against accident. Now let us go."

They were finishing lunch when Doukh called: "Master Maghou, someone comes!"

Two figures on ayas appeared, looking like mushrooms under the enormous yellow straw hats. They wore the clothes of the Chilihagho shaihan-herd. As they came nigh, Reith perceived that one was indubitably a Krishnan; the other, he suspected, was a Terran in disguise.

Marot pointed to the leading rider, saying in an undertone: "That is Warren Foltz." He raised his voice: "Allô, Warren! You ought to have come an hour sooner, and we should have given you the lunch. There is still some salad, which I made myself ..."

Foltz swung down from his saddle, took off his straw hat, and stepped close to Marot with his face grimly set. Reith moved nearer to his client in case Marot should need help.

The newcomer, Reith saw, was carefully made up to look like a Krishnan. Foltz's skin had been stained or powdered to give it the faint olive-green cast of the true Krishnan humanoid. His straight hair, black at the roots, had been dyed a bluish green. Elfin points had been affixed to his ears; and from his forehead, at the inner ends of his eyebrows, sprouted a pair of feathery antennae, like extra movable eyebrows, in imitation of the olfactory organs of natives of this world. Otherwise the newcomer was a strikingly handsome man of about Reith's age, slim, well-built, and dark-complexioned. Foltz grated:

"Aristide! Will you kindly explain how, when the Dasht gave me exclusive rights to dig here, you are horning in? We saw the smoke from your fires."

"Excuse me, Warren," said Marot pacifically. "The Dasht gave you the exclusive right to dig in the Zorian beds. We have the exclusive right to dig in the Kharobian beds. There is thus no conflict."

"What in hell are the Kharobian beds? I never heard of that horizon."

"You will, dear colleague. The time has come for a more detailed subdivision of the Krishnan geological past."

"Meaning that you just thought up this sub-period to get around my permit? Where is your permit, anyway?"

"One moment." Marot disappeared into his tent and emerged with the hand-written screed on native paper. As Foltz reached for it, Marot snatched it back. "Oh, no! You shall not lay hands on this paper. I will hold; you read."

Scowling, Foltz bent forward and read. At last he said: "And what if I go back to Jeshang and tell the Dasht he's been the victim of a barefaced swindle?"

"It would be your word against mine. If I may hazard a guess, the Dasht would decide that Terrans are too much trouble and order both of us out of his barony. Or perhaps he would turn us over to the priesthood of Bákh, to be tried for heresy and boiled to death. Would you like that?"

"Think I'm crazy?" Foltz stood chewing his lip.

"In any case," said Marot, "this ranch covers an enormous area. If we both worked for ten Krishnan years here, we could not more than scratch its surface, geologically speaking."

At last Foltz conceded: "I've got to hand it to you, Aristide. It was a damned clever move. Serves me right for mentioning 'Zorian' in my petition, thus limiting the scope of my dig. Tell you what! To show there's no hard feelings, why don't you and your friend here—excuse me, sir, I don't know your name?"

"Mon dieu!" cried Marot. "Where are my manners? Dr. Warren Foltz, Fergus Reith. Mr. Reith is my guide and guardian. I tell him I wish to go to a place, and presto! by magic he whisks me to that place."

"The tour guide?" said Foltz. "I've heard of you, Mr. Reith. So why don't the pair of you come over to my camp before sundown for a drink and a bite? We picked up a pretty good cook in Jeshang." Foltz added directions.

"It is most kind of you," said Marot. "Is it hokay with you, Fergus?"

Reith's heart had begun to pound. At Foltz's camp, he would learn whether Alicia was with Foltz, as rumor had led him to suspect. The thought roiled unbearable emotions. In a sudden panic, Reith was on the verge of refusing the invitation, to avoid a confrontation. But then, he thought, Aristide was simple-minded in some ways and needed someone to watch over him in the enemy's camp. That thought tipped the balance.

"Sure, we'll be there," he said with affected casualness.