The Hand of Zei

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Food for the fondaqa? Barnevelt pondered, his long chin in his hand. Maybe two could play at that game.

"Tell me," he said. "For nearly an hour your gliders have been dropping things on the Sunqaruma without effect…"

Ferrian replied hotly, "My gliders are the greatest military invention since Qara smote the dames of Varzeni-Ganderan with his magic staff! They'll make us as fearsomely puissant in the arts of Qondyor as the damned Earthmen! But as you say," (he calmed down) "they're not fully perfected. What would you do?"

"How much load do they carry?"

"For a short flight, the equivalent of one man besides the pilot. What's in your mind?"

"We have a lot of water jars in the supply ships. If we dumped half or two-thirds of the water out, they'd weigh about as much as a man—at least the smaller…"

"But wherefore a bombardment of water jars? Though you yerk the nob of one or two foes…"

"But if the jars were full of fondaqa?"

"Hao, now speak you sooth!" cried Ferrian. "We'll cut up the cadavers of the fallen for bait and use those hooks wherewith your sturdy Majburuma seek to claw apart the sea vine… Captain Zair, more ship's boats! Our admiral has an order for the fleet! Yare, yare!"

"But, my lords!" cried Captain Zair with an expression of horror. "The men mortally fear these creatures, and with good reason!"

Barnevelt took a hitch in his mental pants. "Oh, foof! I'm not afraid of them. Get me a thick leather jacket and a pair of gauntlets and I'll demonstrate."

As usual, once he had grasped the basic idea, Prince Ferrian took the bit in his teeth and ran away with it. He rushed about, haranguing everybody to break out fishing tackle, to bend the heads of spears for gaffs, and to get the order to the rest of the fleet.

All this took time. First Barnevelt had to demonstrate how to handle a fondaq without getting bitten, thanking the gods for his experience with Earthly sharks and eels. By the time the crews of the ships along the edges of the weed were hooking, gaffing, and spearing the wriggling, snapping monsters and popping them into water jars, another glider returned to report that the Dura fleet would soon be in sight.

Barnevelt glanced at the high, hot sun. "With this south wind," he told Ferrian, "we should have another hour to get organized. I'm going to divide the fleet and put you in charge of the part sent against the Duruma."

Seeing Ferrian's antennae rise quizzically he added, "Our main weapon against them will be the gliders, which you understand better than anyone. I'm going back to the Junsar because I think when the pirates see most of the fleet going off, they'll try a sortie." He turned to the skipper of the Kumanisht. "Captain Zair, signal all admirals to come here."

A longboat loaded with jars pulled up under the stern of the Kumanisht, the coxswain chanting, "Fish for sale! Nice fresh fish for sale! One bite and ye're a dead carcass!"

The sailors fell to work transferring the jars to the carrier. One of the smaller ships pulled alongside with another load of amphorae. The rows of jars along the flight deck began to grow.

The commanders came aboard, one by one. Barnevelt explained his plans, cutting short arguments. "That's all-carry on."

As he lowered himself into the longboat, hails came from the mastheads of the allied fleet: "Sail ho!" "Sail ho!"

"SAIL HO!"

The Duro fleet had been sighted.

On the Jimsar, the missile fight went on. All the ships were looking battered where catapult bullets had carried away parts of their rails or stove in their deckhouses. One Majburo ship had her mizzenmast knocked over, another her forward catapult smashed, while the decks of the enemy seemed to be heaped with wreckage.

From the Junsar's poop, Barnevelt and Tangaloa watched the main fleet get under way, the big Kumanisht in the middle, the others spread out across the sea in a crescent formation with horns forward. On the horizon, little pale rectangles appeared: the sails of Dur.

After two hours, the men of the Majburo squadron had torn away about half the weed of the plug, which brought them closer to the Sunqaro guard ship and made the fight hotter.

The Majburo admiral said, "My lord Snyol, methinks they make a sally, as you predicted."

Beyond the guard ship, down the channel came the galleys of the Sunqar in double column. Barnevelt could not count them because the hulls of the leading pair obscured the rest, but he knew he was outnumbered. The allied armada was caught between Dur and the pirates as in a nut-cracker.

Tangaloa paused in his motion-picture making to say, "Those blokes will try to make contact with us, then line up, ship to ship, so they can pour an endless supply of boarders into us."

"I know. Wish I could persuade you to wear some armor."

"And if I fell into the water?"

Barnevelt somberly watched the Sunqaruma approach. If he could only think up some bright idea… If the pirates did break through his blockade, would they fall on the allied fleet from the rear or flee to parts unknown? It wouldn't matter to him; he'd be dead.

The noise forward died down. The guard ship's people had stopped shooting in an effort to turn her around so that she should not block the way for her sisters. Her oars moved feebly, leading Barnevelt to guess that most of them had less than their normal complement of rowers.

Barnevelt told the Majburo admiral, "Have 'em stop shooting to clear wreckage, build up the bulwarks, and gather more ammunition. How's it holding out?"

"Well enough, sir, with all the bolts and arrows that prickle my ship like the spines of the irascible 'evashq."

"Lash our six ships together the way I told you and push forward against the plug; And remind the men about that man we want taken alive." Barnevelt felt-his sword edge.

The Majburo ships made fast, all the rowers except those on the outside banks of the outside pair shipping their oars because there was no longer room to ply them. The remaining rowers began to drive this super-catamaran forward, pushing the plug of weed and the crippled guardship ahead of it up the channel.

But soon the two leading pirate ships thrust their rams into the weed from their side and began to push back. Having more oars in use, they halted the movement of the plug and started it back towards the open sea.

Barnevelt asked, "What are you doing, George?"

"Just an idea of mine," said Tangaloa. He held a broken length of catapult arrow about a meter long, to the end of which he was tying a light rope several meters long.

"Here they come," said Barnevelt.

The two leading Sunqaro galleys had pushed the plug and the six Majburo ships back far enough down the channel so that it opened out enough to let one of the smaller following pirates slip past and work around the plug, albeit fouling its oars in the vine at every stroke. Little by little it crawled through the narrow lane in the terpahla until its bow touched that of the outermost starboard ship of the Majburo squadron.

Barnevelt and Tangaloa had hurried to the outermost ship, crowded with men released from oar duty. As they arrived, spiked planks were flung across from ship to ship. Trumpets blared and boarding-parties rushed from each end of the planks. They met with a crash in the middle. Men clinched and tumbled off the planks, to thump against the rams below or splash into the weedy water. Others pressed up behind them while, on the forecastles of both ships, archers and crossbowmen sent missiles into the thick of the opposing fighters. The archers of the Majburo ship's neighbor added their weight to the fire.

Tangaloa elbowed his way through the throng at the bow. At the rail he unlimbered his improvised whip and sent it snaking across the gap. Crack! The end coiled around the neck of a Sunqaru, and a jerk pulled the man over his own rail. Splash! He gathered up the rope and let fly again. Crack! Splash!

Barnevelt had worked himself into an adrenal state where he was eager to fight, but the crowd at the bow blocked his way. Between the superior fire-power of the Majburuma and Tangaloa's whip, the Sunqaruma on the planks began to give way, until the Majburuma poured into the waist of the pirate galley, sweeping Barnevelt along in the current. He stumbled over bodies, unable to see for the crowd or hear for the din.

The pressure and the noise increased as another force of pirates swarmed over this ship's stern from another Sunqaro ship. As Tangaloa had predicted, the pirates were passing from ship to ship to bring their full force into use. Barnevelt found himself pushed back towards the bow of the Sunqaro ship, until the rail pressed against the small of his back. Now, while a sudden push might send him over the side, he could at least see. The after half of the ship was full of Sunqaruma fighting their way forward.

Unable to reach the crowded gangplanks, Barnevelt put his sword away, climbed over the rail of the Sunqaro ship and down on the ram, stepped over a corpse, leaped to the ram of the Majburo ship, and climbed up. The forecastle was still crowded, the Majburo admiral, armored like a lobster, bellowing orders in the midst of it all.

Tangaloa leaned against the rail, smoking. The latter said, "You shouldn't have done that, Dirk. The commander-in-chief ought to stay back where he can command-in-chief, and not get mixed up in vulgar fighting."

"Matter of fact, I haven't been near the actual fighting."

"You will be soon. Here they come!"

A wedge of Sunqaruma had bored through their opponents and gained the planks. The Majburuma on the planks were struck down or hurled off or pushed back on their own ship, and then the pirates were after them, fighting with insensate ferocity. At their head stormed a stocky Earthman with a red face seamed with many small wrinkles.

"Igor!" yelled Barnevelt, recognizing his chief behind the nasal of the helmet.

Igor Shtain saw Barnevelt and rushed upon him, whirling a curved blade. Barnevelt parried slash after slash, and now and then a thrust, but the blows came so fast he could do no more than defend himself.

Step by step Shtain drove him back towards the stern of the Majburo ship. Barnevelt's helmet clanged from a blow that got home. Once or twice Shtain laid himself open to a riposte, but Barnevelt's hesistancy cost him his chance. If he could only hit the guy with the flat over the head, as he had done with the artist in Jazmurian… But he'd break his sword on Shtain's helmet.

Barnevelt was vaguely aware that fighting had spread throughout the mass of Majburo ships. He threw occasional glances over his shoulders lest somebody stab him from behind. He caught a glimpse of Tangaloa staving a pirate skull with his mace; of a pirate thrusting a Majburu over the side with the point of his pike.

Shtain continued, with demoniac force, to press him back. Barnevelt wondered where the hell a man of Shtain's age got such physical endurance. Though much younger and a better fencer, Barnevelt was beginning to pant. His aching fingers seemed hardly able to hold the sweaty hilt, and still Shtain came on.

The poop of this ship was raised only half a deck. Barnevelt felt the steps to the quarterdeck behind him and went up them, step by step, parrying Shtain's swings at his legs. It was unfair to have to fight a man who wanted to kill you while you were trying to avoid killing him.

Back across the quarterdeck they went. Barnevelt thought that if he didn't disable Shtain pretty soon, Shtain would kill him. He began thrusting at Shtain's arm and knee. Once he felt his point hit something, but Shtain kept coming as furiously as ever.

The rail touched Barnevelt's back. Now he had no choice between the wicked blade in front and the Banjao Sea behind. In back of Shtain appreared the bulk of Tangaloa, but for some reason George simply stood there on the quarterdeck.

Shtain paused, glaring, shifted his grip on the saber, and threw himself upon Barnevelt. Still Tangaloa stood idly. This time it would be one or the other…

There was an outburst of trumpet calls. At the same time something flicked out, cracked, and coiled itself around Shtain's left ankle. The rope tautened with a jerk, yanking Shtain's foot from under him and sending him asprawl on the deck. Before he could rise, the huge brown form of Tangaloa landed on him, squeezing the wind out of him like an accordion.

Barnevelt leaped forward, stamped on the fist that held the saber, and wrenched the weapon out of Shtain's hand. He pulled off the helmet and smote Shtain smartly with the flat of his blade. Shtain collapsed.

All over the Majburo ships, the Sunqaruma were running back towards the gangplanks leading to their own vessels. A little fighting still flickered, but for the most part the Majburuma, having lost a quarter of their number, were glad to let their foes go unmolested. The ships were littered with swords, pikes, axes, helmets, bucklers, and other gear, and with the bodies of friends and foes.

As Tangaloa tied Shtain's hands behind his back, Barnevelt asked, "How'd you get so handy with a whip, George?"

"Something I picked up in Australia. Beastly business, fighting. A scientist like me has no business getting mixed up in it."

"Why th& hell did you stand there like a dummy when you first arrived? The guy nearly got me!"

"I was shooting film."

"What?"

"Yes, I got a marvelous sequence of you and Igor battling. It will make our Sunqar picture."

"Jeepers cripus!" cried Barnevelt. "I like that! I'm fighting for my life and losing, and all you think of is to shoot film! I suppose…"

"Now, now," said Tangaloa soothingly. "I knew such an expert fencer as yourself was in no real danger. And it came out all right, didn't it?"

Barnevelt hardly knew whether to rage, to laugh, or to be flattered. He finally decided that since George was incorrigible he might as well drop the subject. He asked, "Why are the Sunqaruma running away? I thought they'd won!"

"Look behind you!"

Barnevelt looked around, and there came the entire allied fleet, gongs beating time for the oars. In the center wallowed the carrier Kumanisht, towing a huge square-rigged galley with great eight or ten-man oars staggered in two banks.

The pirates, having all regained their own ships, pried the gangplanks loose and pushed off from the Majburo galleys with poles, pikes, and oars. Presently the whole lot were splashing back up the channel towards the main body of pirate ships.

For the first time in hours Barnevelt noticed the sun, now low in the west. The fight had lasted most of the afternoon.

The sun had set. Shtain was safely stowed in the Junsar's brig. Barnevelt's wounds—a couple of superficial cuts—had been bandaged. Barnevelt presided over a meeting of his admirals in the big cabin on the Junsar.

"How about it, Lord Snyol?" cried Prince Ferrian. "The men will have it you led the boarders into the Sunqaro ship, smiting off three piratical heads with one blow and generally winning the fight single-handed. Is't true?"

"They exaggerate, though Tagde and I did personally capture that Earthman we were looking for."

"Won't you let me boil him in oil?" said Queen Alvandi. "The pirates of our own world be bad enough, but…"

"I have other plans, Your Altitude. Prince Ferrian, tell me what happened at your end."

'Twas no great affray—rather a comedy worthy of Harian's genius. You know that Dur uses slave rowers on those monstrous ships, for not even their ill-gotten wealth suffices to hire so many thousands of free oarsmen. And the usage is, when going into action, to run a chain through a shackle on the leg of each thrall, binding him securely to his bench by means of a bronze eye set in the wood.

"Now, these Duro ships were bearing down upon us like a charge of wild bishtars; but, seeing nought but our masts on the horizon, like a picket fence, they thought themselves well provided with time to make ready, when down upon them swooped the first of my intrepid lads in his glider, to drop his jar upon the flagship. It struck square among the rowers' benches, ere the slave masters had half finished shackling their rowers, and wrought most wondrous confusion, the fondaqa squirming and snapping, the slaves screaming and those bitten writhing in their death agonies, the slave drivers rushing about with their whips, and all in turmoil.

"Then came two more such love epistles, and the slaves went genuinely mad and mutinied. Those still free unshackled the rest, whilst others assailed the drivers and marines with bare hands, hurling some to a briny doom and others rending in bloody bits. The Duro admiral saved his gore by doffing his cuirass and leaping into the sea, where a dinghy picked him up.

"Meanwhile other fliers had dropped their jars. While some of these fell in the water, others struck home, with admirable results. For, even if the slaves in the other ships were bound, still the presence of these loathsome sea creatures destroyed all order and made maneuver flat impossible. In short, the novel nature of this onset so demoralized the foe that some of their ships began to flee before we came upon them.

"Others, seeing the carnage still raging on the flagship and not knowing that the admiral had been saved—for he'd left his personal flags behind—hesitated, and when the Saqqand of Suruskand rammed another of the great ships, the latter doing nought to avoid the dolorous stroke, and breaking up in consequence, away the rest of 'em went. We boarded the flagship, where still the anarch battle raged, quelled both disputing parties, and towed her back with us. Our total loss was one of my fliers, who missed his alighting and drowned, poor wight."