The Swords of Zinjaban

XI - Percy Mjipa

Days later, Fergus Reith and Alicia Dyckman returned from a long morning's ride and tied their animals to a post beside Yekar's watering trough. As they mounted the steps to the ranchhouse porch, singing "Git along, little dogies!" Reith said to their hostess, "Hail, Mistress Bashti! Where's Yekar?"

She replied, "He hath gone across the mountains to Zinjaban, to buy supplies. Ye twain are overly heated!"

"We were out with your herders, chasing stray shaihans," said Reith.

"And," added Alicia eagerly, "Fergus showed he could rope a calf as well as any. Your ranch hands couldn't believe their eyes. One said: 'Tisa thing impossible, that an Ertsu should have this skill!' "

"So now," said Bashti smiling, "your sweat-soaked garments cling to you as bark to tree. I'll wager ye crave baths; and after that a generous repast."

"You read Terran minds," said Alicia. "But you must let us help with lunch—"

"Nay, I suffer no guests to toil in my kitchen. By the time ye've soaked and dried, my board shall await you. And—I almost forgot. Whilst ye were out, your man Timásh came by with a letter for Master Reit'. Here 'tis!"

Reith opened the letter and read:

Dear Fergus:

I have received reports on the abduction of Doctor Dyckman, her escape with your help, and the death of King Vizman at the hands of your former secretary—at least, that is the official story. I should have given much to take fresh fingerprints from the knife handle. Before he died, Minyev told a tale different from the official one; but there is no way now to settle the matter.

According to another report received. Schlegel is by no means reconciled to accepting the failure of his kidnapping plan as the workings of inscrutable fate. You have not, he has been heard to say, seen the last of him.

Yours most attentively,

Herculeu Castanhoso Souza

"What should we do about Schlegel?" asked Alicia, frowning.

Reith shrugged. "Nothing much we can do before we get back to Novo. We'll just have to keep our eyes and ears open and our weapons handy, and not go wandering off alone."

After lunch, Reith and Alicia retired to the guest room for well-earned naps. Alicia murmured drowsily: "This has been simply heavenly. If it could only go on ..."

"We'd get itchy," said Reith practically. "Matter of fact, we ought to be on our way back to Zinjaban right now. I figure they're ready to shoot the big battle scene."

Alicia ran her fingers across Reith's lips. "Don't be impatient, darling. The last time Timásh came over, he said there was no change in the standing orders."

"You're right. We can't expect more news for a couple of days, unless Fodor takes time off to come looking for us."

"He might, at that," said Alicia. "Instead of ideas, that man has obsessions. After you beat him up twice, he'll be in no mood to hand you a lollipop."

"So let's enjoy ourselves while we can." Reith smiled slyly and opened his arms.

Just then came a knock on the door, and Bashti's voice called, "Master Fergus!"

"Yes?"

"A strange Ertsu hath come, asking for Yekar. When I told him my man was away, but ye were here, he demanded to see you. Pray come! He's a terrifying creature, as black as a demon from Hishkak!"

Reith sighed as they swung out of bed and reached for their clothes. "Sounds like Percy Mjipa."

Percy Mjipa, Oxon., a native of Botswana and now Terran consul at Zanid, was over 190 centimeters tall; lean but iron-muscled; dark of skin and frizzy of hair. As Fergus and Alicia emerged from the front door, in impeccable British English Mjipa boomed: "Hello, old man! What the devil are you doing here? And with Alicia, too!"

"My fiancée and I," said Reith with an embarrassed grin, "are taking a leave of absence from our jobs with Cosmic Productions, over in Zinjaban."

Mjipa goggled. "It's too bloody much to take in all at once. Look here, butties, I'm delighted and all that rot; but we haven't time for amenities. I've galloped all the way from Zanid to tell the people hereabout that Kamoran Ghuur and his Qaathian hordes are on the move. You can expect a major nomad invasion of Zinjaban Province, if not tomorrow, then the day after." To the uncomprehending Bashti, Mjipa repeated the last sentence in Mikardandou.

Bashti gave a little shriek before regaining a measure of composure. "I must needs inform the herders, so they can begin to move our stock to the hills. When Yekar returns, he and I and our egg shall follow. We know a secluded valley. Alas, that they should burn our dear little house!"

She ran towards the stables. Mjipa said: "I learned of this, through my connections, three days ago. For the last two, I've been on the road, eating in the saddle."

"Where's Vicky?" asked Alicia.

"I sent Victoria to Novo with the carriage a ten-day ago. My information is that the Qaathians will cross the Khoruz at Zinjaban; but they could change their minds. So I've come this way to warn my friends here. I'll tip off Litáhn at Port Kandakh. What's this about a cinema crew, making a flick in the Qe'bas?"

Reith outlined the Cosmic Productions project. Mjipa said: "Good thing I came along; I'll warn them, too. No, wait. If I stop at Zinjaban to explain things to your movie gaffers, they'll pass me around like a bloody medicine ball, and I shall waste hours of precious time. If I warn Litáhn and go straight on to Novo, will you inform your Californian lunatics?"

Reith smiled. "It's a prejudice to call all Californians crazy; I once knew a sane one. But I'll do what I can."

"Fergus!" cried Alicia. "How shall we warn them if, as soon as we appear, Fodor comes out and kills you?"

"I'll have my sword handy. Anyway, he won't hurt you."

"I couldn't bear to lose you now ..." Alicia bit her lip and blinked in a not entirely successful effort to keep from crying.

"I know, darling," said Reith gently, "but sometimes we have to take chances."

"Right-o!" said Mjipa. "That'll give me time to tip off the fort at Kolkh."

"How come, Percy?" said Reith. "I thought you consuls always remained strictly neutral."

"Between civilized Krishnan nations, we do; but these barbarians are a common enemy of mankind—well, of Krishnan kind. Ghuur doesn't give a damn for diplomatic immunity; I learned he was planning to have me assassinated. Wanted to make sure I didn't spread the alarm, like that American chap who rode all night crying: The British are coming!' What was his name? Buffalo Bill?"

"No, Paul Revere," said Reith.

"Anyway," Mjipa continued, "it is my business to warn Terrans in the path of the invasion. If in so doing I help the Mikardanduma to mobilize, I'm damned if I find that out of line.

"You should see what these noble savages have done to Balhib. Pyramids of heads piled up in the marketplace! Not that all these natives are my dish of tea; but Ghuur of Uriiq regards all civilized folk as vermin to be exterminated. Well, I'm on my way. Cheer-o!"

Mjipa bounded down the porch steps and ran to his tethered ayas. Off he galloped, leading his spare mount.

"Oh, dear!" said Alicia as she waved farewell to the towering black Terran. "It was such a lovely pre-honeymoon, too."

"Sure, but all good things—even for Mr. and Mrs. Reith ... Let's pack."

Alicia drove the gig, while Reith bestrode the spare aya as they neared Castle Kandakh. Presently Reith caught a twinkle of sun on armor and glimpsed a band of Krishnans working on the road, where it passed through a narrow defile below the fortress.

Coming closer, he perceived that the Krishnans were soldiers from the garrison. A sweating score, stripped to loin cloths, were constructing a stone wall across the highway, while others in armor stood guard against a surprise attack. Reith dismounted, walked forward, and hailed the officer in command.

"Ohé!. Sir Chomaku!"

"What would ye, Sir Fergus?"

"I beg that you move a few of your stones, so that Doctor Dyckman and I can pass."

"Aye, aye." The knight barked an order. "Your fellow Terran, the black man, warned us of the Qaathians."

Reith asked, "Does Sir Litáhn plan to stop the invaders here?"

"For a while, albeit we could not hold such a barrier for ay. They'll charge us mounted. When enough have been stricken by our missiles, they'll pull back, dismount, and attack afoot, scaling the walls of the gorge to come at us. Then we'll retreat into the castle.

"If they lay siege, 'twill delay their invasion, and we can hold for a moon, giving time for relief. If they essay to run past, we'll slay a mort of 'em with catapults and crossbows along this road. 'Tis the best we can do with what we have."

Reith thanked the officer and helped to manhandle the gig's wheels past the obstacle. They rode on, down the long slope as the road snaked its descending way out of the eastern flanks of the mountains. When the downgrade became steep, Reith said: "Lish! Do you need any help on the brake?"

"No; I'll manage," she muttered through set lips, as she held the reins in one hand and strained against the brake handle with the other.

When the road leveled off in flatter terrain, they urged their beasts to a canter. At the ford of the Khoruz, Reith said: "Better change places, darling. It's a little ticklish, guiding the trap through the water."

Reith had been giving Alicia lessons in driving, but her hold on the reins was still uncertain. She mounted the spare aya, while Reith drove the draft animal into the broad, shallow stream. He clucked soothingly at the nervous beast but tickled it with his whip whenever it tried to balk or turn back.

The gig rocked dangerously as one wheel or the other went over a rock and water curled up around the aya's legs and the half-submerged wheels. At last they reached the Zinjaban side. Beyond the gentle swell of the river bank, the travelers glimpsed the skeletal shapes of Fodor's two observation towers for photographic use.

When they topped the rise, Reith observed a crowd milling around the base of one tower. He picked Fodor and his massive aya out of the throng. The director was arguing with two Krishnan knights, while Timásh interpreted. Coming closer, Reith recognized the knights as Sir Bobir, the Gozashtando commander, and Sir Padras, leader of the Mikardanduma.

When the travelers neared the outskirts of the crowd, expectant faces turned towards them. Tensely, Reith gripped his scabbarded sword. Leaning from her saddle, Alicia said: "Please, Fergus, pull up here and wait! I think I know how to handle the terrible Hun."

Alicia spurred her aya towards the group and trotted up to Fodor. Soon the pair were walking their mounts away from the crowd in earnest conversation. Then they turned their ayas and trotted to Reith, waiting uncomfortably in the gig. As he approached, Fodor held up his right hand in a gesture of peaceful intent. One finger was still splinted and bandaged.

"Hey, Fergus!" he roared, grinning through his mustache. "Good thing you came back! The battle takes begin tomorrow, and we need all the translators we can get.

"Alicia tells me what really happened. I guess I owe apology. IT I'd known you two was going to get married again, I'd have said: 'No play! Out! Take my bed and bust the springs!' I got the barbarian sense of honor!" He thumped his chest.

"I owe an apology, too," said Reith. "We should have told you, but we'd celebrated our engagement with too much kvad to think clearly."

"So no hard feelings? Good!" Fodor extended his left hand. "Got to shake this one, until the ozzer heals. What's a little fight between friends?"

"You're going to have a real battle on your hands," said Reith. "I've got to talk to you and Kostis, right away. There's a full-scale invasion heading this way, and we're right in its path."

"A real fight? Wunderbar! Csodálotos! Who we fighting?"

"The Qaathian nomads. Their Kamoran—I guess on Earth we'd call him a Great Khan—has decided to add Mikardand to his empire."

"You go stow your stuff. I'll get the boss and see you at the inn right away after."

As Reith helped Alicia to move her gear into the tent she shared with Mary Hopkins, he whispered: "You little bar! You fibbed to save my gore."

"Hardly a real prevarication," said Alicia complacently. "Merely a slight confusion in the order of events. I moved your proposal up a couple of hours. Any psychologist will explain that the human memory plays tricks with time. Anyway, if it came to a fight, I'm sure you'd have bested him."

Reith {pinned. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Since were sleeping apart tonight, give me a nice, big—"

"Oh, excuse me," said Mary Hopkins, entering the tent. "I'll come back later."

"No, no, Mary!" said Alicia laughing at the older woman's embarrassment. "Everything's okay. We're properly engaged, you know."

"Really? You mean you're going to have flowers and bridesmaids and all the trimmings?"

"I don't know that we'll go that far," said Reith, "but we do figure on a proper wedding. Now we've got to go see the Big shots at the inn. Come on, Alicia."

Stavrakos swallowed a bite of sandwich and frowned in concentration. "Fergus, seems to me the only thing is for us—the shooting crew—to run like hell for Novorecife."

"No, no!" said Fodor, pounding the table. "Are we cowards or fools? If there's a battle, we can shoot the whole thing from the towers. Think, man! With a little rewriting of the script, we can use all the meterage in Swords."

"You're nuts, Attila!" said Stavrakos, turning to Reith. "How many of these nomads are on the march?"

Reith shrugged. "At least a few thousand."

"And we've got only a thousand knights and men-at-arms, assuming we can get those two gangs to work together. Plus a few hundred in the garrison at Kandakh. Resistance would be as loony an idea as any they had in old Hollywood, before the earthquake. We've got to make a run for it."

"We don't have that option," said Reith. "These Qaathians ride like bats out of Hell; each trooper travels with remounts. If you started your people off right now, and the nomads arrived tomorrow, they'd catch you on the road."

"Tell me about Qaath," said Fodor, ignoring the peril, "so I get a feel about Krishnan history."

"Qaath is a big steppe country west of Jo'ol and Balhib," said Alicia. "Culturally, the people living there are like Earth's Mongols and Tatars."

"Real men!" growled Fodor.

"All very fine," said Reith, "unless one of them decides to decorate his harness with your scalp. Usually they're split into warring tribes, cheerfully slaughtering one another. But once in a while, an effective leader welds them into a single fighting machine. Then he sets out to see which of his neighbors he can most easily rob and slaughter. Ghuur of Uriiq, the Kamoran of Qaath, is such a leader.

"Because the Varasto nations have been too busy quarreling among themselves to unite against the outside menace, Ghuur has been picking them off, one by one. Now he has his eye on Mikardand, which is stronger than his earlier conquests. He's getting on in years and, I suppose, wants to lead one more grand conquest while he can."

"Any idea how these Qaathians operate?" asked Fodor more soberly. His euphoria at the thought of a battle had been replaced by grim calculation.

"I have an idea," said Reith. "They'll send ahead several thousand light ayas. If they don't meet much resistance, they'll go right on, killing and burning, clear to Mishé. If they encounter strong opposition, they'll recoil against the forces coming up behind them. This main army will move slowly, because the foot soldiers from the tributary states can't travel more than twenty-five or thirty kilometers a day."

"So if we—I mean if our Krishnan extras—smash this advance force, it might stop the whole invasion?"

Reith shrugged. "I don't know Ghuur's precise intentions; but at least it would buy time for Mikardand."

"I think we'd be crazy not to run—" began Stavrakos; but Fodor cut him off with a roar.

"Get hold of the colonels, you two!" He addressed both Reith and Alicia. "I don't care what Kostis says. I'm going to have this battle in my movie!"

"I'll fire you!" shouted Stavrakos.

"You can't! Read the contract! What I say goes for details of the picture, and I say the battle is part of the picture! Go find those colonels!"

"Read the contract yourself!" yelled Stavrakos. "Clause twenty-three gives me the final say on all expenditures ..."

Reith and Alicia left them shouting like angry schoolboys. While Alicia was searching the Gozashtando encampment, Reith found the Krishnan officers relaxing on a bench among the Mikardando tents, sharing a bottle of falat. When Reith told them of the imminent invasion, they sprang to their feet.

"The living-picture folk are discussing what to do," said Reith. "Will you please join them, so we can form a plan?"

Bobir, the older colonel, whispered in Padras's ear, and the Mikardandu departed at a run. Bobir said: "He'll join us presently, Sir Fergus."

Reith and Bobir found the two motion-picture executives still in dispute. From Fodor's glum expression, Reith surmised that the producer had all but won the argument.

Stavrakos said: "Fergus, I convinced Hungary's Revenge here—" He waved a pudgy hand at Fodor. "—that we'd be crazy to stay for a battle. All the crew will take to their heels anyway, when they hear what's up. So as soon as we can pack our gear, we'll make a run for it, even if it's in the middle of the night."

"What saith he?" asked Bobir.

Reith translated. Bobir shook his head. "Iyá! So thinks he, belike. Pray, tell him that Sir Padras and I have seized all the ayas, for we shall need every animal to face the invaders. Moreover, all able-bodied male Terrans in situ are conscripted into the army of Mikardand, and any attempt to flee will be punished by instant execution.

"The Terran women may do as they like. I can, howsomever, promise that if they set out on foot, and the Qaathians win the battle, these females will be caught on the road by the nomads, raped, and slain."

Again Reith translated. Stavrakos went pale, while Fodor chewed his mustache. Sir Padras came in. "The guards are now posted over the ayas and around the camp, Sir Bobir."

Stavrakos pleaded. "Look, I'm not able-bodied. I'm an old man. I'm overweight, and I've never ridden an aya or handled a sword in my life."

"Then you shall learn," said Bobir complacently when this had been translated. "Sir Fergus, assemble all the male Terrans at those wooden towers Master Fodor hath built. Padras and I shall compel them to learn to fight. You've had experience with riding and swording; so have Masters Fodor, Strachan, Fallon, and that actor fellow, Master Fairwedder. The four of you shall be drill instructors. No argument, Master Stav—whatever your name is! To dispute a lawful order of a Knight of Qarar is grounds for execution."

When Reith, going through the Terran tents, told the Cosmic crew what impended, he was met with shrieks of fear, anger, and outrage. There were cries of "I'm leaving this place in spite of their guards!"

"It's not fair!"

"I'll sue 'em!"

"Actor's Equity will hear about this!"

"It's all your fault, Fergus Reith!"

"Wait till I get hold of my agent!"

"I'll appeal to the Terran consul!"

"Won't do you any good," said Reith. "Tony Fallon's been drafted, too. He's to be one of your drill instructors."

"Huh!" exclaimed Cassie Norris. "Not a man with balls in the whole friggin' lot! If you can find a breastplate with bulges to fit mine, I'll get out there with a sword and show you!"

"Thanks, Cassie," smiled Reith. "You're the best man of the lot. The rest of you, follow me!"

Roqir, hanging low in the sky, saw actors, cameramen, and other members of the shooting crew learning, with grunts and groans, to mount an aya, guide the animal with reins and heels, and tie the beast up properly. Alicia acted as a translator; Reith, as a general trouble shooter.

After a brief dinner break, the conscripts were divided into five squads and assigned to the drill instructors to learn sword-play. Issuing the silver-painted wooden swords intended for the battle scene, Reith lined up the five assigned to him. Fodor was put in charge of Stavrakos, and Reith observed that the director took sadistic pleasure in beating his boss black and blue in the guise of teaching him saber-fencing technique.

Reith told his pupils, "First we'll learn the normal guard position for fighting without a shield. Place your feet in line with your opponent, right foot forward ..."

When he had reduced his charges to exhaustion, Reith sent them to bed. Ordway, passing Reith on the way to his tent, muttered: "By God, Sir Fergus, the Lady G. will jolly well have to do without me tonight. I'm so whacked, I couldn't make love to Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, and the Queen of Sheba rolled into one!"

The groans of the shooting crew the evening before were nothing compared to the chorus of outcries and complaints that rose the next morning. "Oh, God, Fergus, I can't move! Between those damned animals and that fencing footwork ..."

"I'm so stiff that if I bend, I'll break in two."

"Damn it, why can't they give us noncombatant jobs, like stretcher bearing? We're no warriors!"

"You'll loosen up with exercise," said Reith implacably. "Come on!"

Although the Terran recruits needed moons of practice to make them passable riders and swordsmen, Bobir and Padras decided that, for lack of time, they would be put through mounted drills. On the field chosen for the cinematic battle, two dozen Terrans tried to maneuver in formation. They succeeded only in caroming into one another, causing their ayas to run away with them, and otherwise earning their instructors' curses.

During a rest period, Reith noticed a little knot of women and cameramen around Attila Fodor. When he walked over to investigate, Fodor exulted: "Didn't I say we'd have this battle on film?"

"What are you doing?" asked Reith.

"Teaching the girls to use the cameras. When the Qaathians come, the women will go up the towers with the cameras and shoot the action."

Reith said: "If the Qaathians win, your girls will be trapped up there. The nomads will either climb up after them or burn down the towers."

"Sure; but what else can they do? If they run away on foot, the nomads will catch them, with the same results. So on the chance that we win, we might as well get something out of it. I'll change the script to fit later."

Reith looked around. "Where's Gashigi?"

"Oh, she took off in her carriage last night. Said duty called her back to Mishé. The colonels let her and her driver go, but they kept her bodyguards for soldiers. Most of the camp followers sneaked away, too."

"I thought the colonels had posted guards on the perimeter?"

Fodor smiled and spread his hands. "Imagine you're one of these soldiers, Fergus, and during the night your woman comes up and whispers: 'Let me through, love, so I'm not killed if the nomads break through! If we live, I'll meet you back home.' Are you going to turn her back?"

"Hm," Reith pondered. "Who's got Gashigi's room at the inn?"

"I have it, natural, with my two girls."

"Then your tent's empty. Any reason why—uh—"

Fodor dealt Reith one of his bone-breaking back-slaps. "Go ahead, move in with her! You two are so near married, it don't make no difference."

Reith had his squad lined up and stretching their leg tendons by practicing the lunge, when a Gozashtando soldier galloped up, flung himself off his aya, and demanded to see Colonel Bobir.

"Over there!" Reith pointed. The soldier ran, leading his mount.

Reith told his men to stand at ease and followed the soldier, whom he found talking earnestly with both colonels.

"Ah, Sir Fergus!" said Bobir. "This trooper is one of the scouts we sent to watch the approaches. The foe come not by the Qe'ba road but swing wide about the southern end of the range. Now they hasten along the farther bank of the Khoruz, approaching yonder ford."

"How near?" asked Reith.

"With's own eyes, Trooper Arum hath seen, not the veritable Qaathians, but only the vast cloud of dust they raise. Belike, we have an hour ere they arrive."

"What's your plan?"

"Why, to meet them in mid-stream and smite them sore!"

"Look, Sir Bobir, they'll outnumber us at least two to one. Shouldn't we let part of their force cross unopposed and then charge them? That way, we shall have the advantage of numbers at the point of contact."

Padras asked: "How shall we hide our intentions from the oncomers?"

"If we form here, below the towers, they won't see us while crossing because of the swell of the ground. Then someone in the towers can signal when the first thousand or so have crossed, and we can charge down on them. They're light-armed, with little or no armor, and their beasts are small."

"A clever plan for a civilian Ertsu" said Bobir. "But we are old, experienced warriors, and natives of this world to boot. Think not that I mean aught of unpraise, Sir Fergus; but 'tis our responsibility—"

"Hold ye one moment, Bobir," said Padras. "Come aside and speak privily.''

Reith and the trooper fidgeted while the two officers conferred in low tones. When they turned back, Bobir said, "We've devised our own plan, Sir Fergus. True, it hath a few features like unto yours; still and all 'tis ours. Well mass our men betwixt these towers. Then, when we're signaled ..."

Colonel Bobir described a plan exactly like Reith's; but Reith thought it inexpedient to comment on the feet.

"Who shall be our signalman?" said Padras. "I mislike to waste a single fighter."

Reith said: "Give the job to the Terrans' leading actress, Mistress Norris. She has more guts than any of the men. By the bye, the commander at Kandakh expects an attack through the mountains. His men will be staring westward over their wall when they should be galloping eastward, towards the river, to surprise the Qaathians from the rear. We should send him a message."

"That would mean detaching another warrior," said Bobir uncertainly. "We must not disperse our meager strenth—"

"I can furnish you a non-combatant rider," said Reith. "Give her your fastest aya and she'll beat any of your soldiers, since she's lighter than they." He looked up at the towers. Sighting Alicia's shining hair, he shouted "Hey, Lish! A-lish-a!" When he caught her attention, he beckoned.

Bobir and Padras were arguing over the best aya for the job. Reith heard: "... and you're ever bragging of that beast of yours hight 'Thunder. 'Tis time we put your boasts to the test!"

"But she'll ruin the animal, spurring it uphill—"

"She's an experienced rider," interjected Reith. "And at the worst, it'll be ruined in a good cause."

While horns blew, ayas squealed, and armored men clattered about, Alicia swung into Thunder's saddle. She trotted to the river, picked her way across, and spurred to a canter up the mountain road. Reith breathed a sigh of relief. She, at least, would survive.

"Sir Fergus," said Bobir, "worthy though your Terrans be in other ways, as untrained warriors they'd be worth no more than a herd of unhas. So we'd best not put them in the fore. I trust they'll not be insulted?"

Knowing how desirous the Terrans were of missing the battle altogether, Reith hid a smile. "I'll explain it to them, and I'm sure they'll understand."

"We intend," continued Bobir, "to hold them back as our reserve. If—may the divine stars forbid—the Qaathians break through our lines, we'll send the Terrans against them at that point."

Fodor, his huge frame outfitted in a mail shirt too small to be properly laced at one side, had elected himself commander of the Terran contingent, and none disputed the choice. He named Reith, Fairweather, Strachan, and Fallon as his junior officers, saying: "As a born barbarian, I ought to be fighting on the ozzer side. But I will give the Knights of Qarar good mercenary service, like the barbarian Stihcho did the Romans."

The Krishnan units had too few spare weapons to equip all the Terrans, so Attila Fodor made up the difference, handing out the souvenir swords he had bought in Mishé" until all the men were armed. About half the Terrans received mailshirts; a few wore Krishnan helmets.

The braver women waited in the towers beside their cameras. Others hid in the shrubbery with food and water and such makeshift weapons as they could find, mostly knives from the cook tent Cassie Norris, wearing a saucepan for a helmet, stood with flag in hand on the topmost story of one of the openwork towers. She cried, loudly enough to be heard below: "If those gooks burn this tower down, they'll make me a second Joan of Arc, like when I played her two years ago. If you've got to go, I say go in style!"

The long wait began. As Roqir slid slowly down the turquoise sky, quiet descended on the scene, broken only by the whir of flying arthropods, the furtive whispers of the defenders, and the snarls of officers ordering their troops to silence.

At last Reith saw the flag—a square of white cloth on the end of a spear—float outward from the tower and wave horizontally to signal "enemy in sight."

Sir Bobir shouted "Mount!" The clatter of weapons and the creak of harness shattered the silence. Stavrakos had to be boosted into the saddle by two of his squad.

Reith relayed the command to his men and badgered them into the proper stance. "Matthews, you've got your reins twisted!"

"Saito, press your knees in!"

A quarter-hour later, Cassie waved the flag in a circle, to indicate that the Qaathians were crossing the ford.

At last a vertical wave ended the weary wait. The colonels passed commands, and the long double line of cavalry advanced, slowly at first, then faster.

Fodor raised his sword in his left hand, seemingly unhindered by the substitution. Standing in his stirrups, he craned his neck to look up at the women manning cameras and bellowed: "Sound! Cameras! Action!" To his company he cried: "Forward at a walk! Trot!"

Reith and the other junior officers tried to keep their men in line; but to Reith the advance was the most ragged and unsoldierly he had seen. The ayas disobeyed their riders' unskilled commands. In trying to straighten out their fine, riders drove their beasts into one another. One reluctant warrior was hooked in the leg by a horn. Two of the animals started a fight. When one tyro pricked his neighbor's aya with his sword, the animal bucked its rider off. The fallen man got up and limped after his mount, which trotted ahead just out of reach.

At last, behind the Krishnan force, the Terrans trotted raggedly over the sheltering bulge. Down the long slope, the Krishnan soldiery were now traveling at a canter, with lances in the front rank and drawn swords in the second. Before them, the Qaathian nomads who had crossed the river churned in a dark mass. Others were splashing through the ford, while still others awaited their turn on the far side of the stream.

The knights met the enemy with a thunderous crash. Reith could see nothing but the armored backs of knights and men-at-arms, obscured by a thickening cloud of dust. War-cries, screams, and cheers mingled with the clatter of swords against shields and mail.

Little by little, the nomads were pressed back. The line of knights formed a crescent, trapping the Qaathians against the banks of the river.

A knot of Qaathians broke through the lines, and a desperate score of them swirled up the slope. As they approached, Reith picked out their fur caps and baggy garments of shaihan wool, and the short, curved swords held in dirty, olive-brown fists. They clustered about a Qaathian whose towering stature was augmented by a tall helmet with gilded decorations.

"Come on!" shouted Fodor. "The colonel says to kill those guys! Charge!"

Arrows, shot at a high angle by the Qaathians at the ford, began to rain down on the Terrans. Precipitately, Fodor spurred ahead. Some of the shooting crew tried to keep pace with him; others, less heroic, hesitated lest they be the first to collide with the foe. Two wheeled their animals about and galloped back up the slope.

Roaring a Magyar war cry, Fodor drew farther and farther ahead of his Terran companions, until he was charging the enemy alone. He headed straight for the leader in the gilded helmet. There was an anvil-like hammering of blade on blade, and the gilded helmet disappeared. Then the fallen one's comrades surrounded Fodor, hacking and thrusting.

Seconds later, Reith confronted a Qaathian. With upraised sword, the fellow rode directly at him. Reith heeled his aya at the nomad and, as the animals came into contact, thrust out his blade at arm's length. He felt the point bite through cloth and flesh. The slash that the Qaathian had aimed at Reith's head wavered and missed as the attacker, run through the body, pitched out of his saddle.

Then Reith faced another nomad. Since his mount had lost momentum, he could not this time use his sword as a lance. He parried two wild slashes and then thrust home through the Qaathian's cloth coat. He felt his point pierce meat, before he had to jerk the blade back to parry a furious backhand. Reith caught the blow—and his sword broke a few centimeters from the hilt. Before he could react, a second cut descended on his head, slicing through the helmet and into his scalp. He saw stars, felt the ground come up and hit him, and knew no more.

Reith awoke with a pounding headache and found a bandage around his head. He lay on a camp cot in a large tent among other wounded, some of whose bandages were stained with blue-green Krishnan blood. A Krishnan whom Reith recognized as the Mikardando army surgeon spoke to him as from a distance.

"How feel ye, Sir Fergus?"

"Not so well as yesterday. Who won?"

"We did, good my sir. Had we not, ye were dead. The fell of the Kamoran—"

"You mean we killed the old savage?"

"Aye; 'twas the Terran, Master Fodor, who slew him."

"And Fodor?"

"Slain, too, alas. But he took a parcel of barbarians to Hishkak with him. That, together with the charge of the garrison from Kandakh at the nomads' rear, broke their spirit. Many were slain, and the rest fled like leaves before the blast. Thanks to our armor, we lost but twain besides your Master Fodor."

Reith sighed. "Poor Fodor! Always talking of the glories of barbaric battle. He got more than he bargained for; but perhaps he died happy. Any other hurts among the Terrans?"

"Master Ames hath sustained a wrenched shoulder in felling off his mount, while Master Strachan suffered a grievous leg wound. Your Terran physician, that Doctor Mas'udi, hath removed him to's own tent."

"What day is this?" asked Reith.

" 'Tis the even of the battle, at the thirteenth hour. Excuse me, pray, whilst I fetch your Terran leech. I dare not treat you, for that your organs internal differ from ours."

Mas'udi opined: "Fergus, I want you to stay quiet in bed another day; you may have a concussion. You've had nine stitches."

Reith gingerly felt his scalp through the bandages. Then he sat up purposefully. "No, doc, I feel pretty good. If I get woozy, I'll come back. Right now I want to find my—my—"

"Your friend—your fiancée, Doctor Dyckman. She's been in and out of the tent ever since we put you here, waiting for you to wake. At last I told her to get out and stay out; she needs some rest, too."

"Okay, where are my clothes?"

Mas'udi clucked and argued, but Reith was determined despite his throbbing head. He hurriedly dressed and left the hospital tent. Night had fallen; but the camp was well lit by cookfires, torches, and two of the three Krishnan moons.

Sounds of an altercation drew Reith's attention. Pushing through a gathering crowd, he saw Anthony Fallon in heated discussion with the two colonels. Nearby he perceived two kneeling men: Stavrakos and another Terran, the gasser or lighting manager Olson. Both were stripped to the waist, with hands bound behind them. Over them stood a Krishnan trooper leaning on a broad-bladed, two-handed sword.

Reith ran, even though the movement sent shooting pains through his skull. "Hold everything! What's up?" he shouted.

Fallon said: "Fergus! Our commanders here want to cut off a couple of heads: the blokes who galloped away from the fighting. Can't say I blame the colonels— cowardice in the face of the enemy—but we can't have that sort of thing done to our fellow Earthlings if we can help it."

"Will they take money for compensation? Stavrakos has plenty."

"No. They say it would ruin discipline, if anybody would buy his way out of a charge."

"I have an idea," said Reith. He came close to the colonels and spoke in low tones. The officers walked off a little way, conferring and arguing. At last they came back, making the affirmative head motion and breaking into smiles. Reith walked slowly towards the culprits, looking grave; he did not intend to let them off too easily.

"Please, Fergus!" cried Stavrakos, his voice a terrified squeak. "Get me out of this! I'll do anything for you! Come to Montecito, and I'll get you money, broads, dope, anything you want!"

"I may be able to get you off, on one condition," said Reith.

"Anything! What condition?"

"They'll let you and Olson go—for the time being anyway—on condition that you give both colonels significant parts in the movie. Motilal can change the script tonight. You can run off takes in a few says and dub in the dialogue back on Earth. Okay?"

"Yes, yes, that's wonderful!" gasped Stavrakos. "Just have 'em cut these damned ropes, will you? How much do I pay you, personally?"

"What?" exclaimed Reith, incredulously.

"I said, how much must I give you, for yourself, for springing me?"

"Gods of Krishna!" said Reith. "Did you think I'd extort money as the price of your worthless life?"

"Well—all—it's what I'd do in your place."

"You mercenary son of a bitch! You think I'm the same sort of louse you are?" He spoke to the headsman. "Cut their ropes."

Stavrakos rose with a grunt, rubbing arms scored by rope marks. He shook his head in a puzzled way. "Well— ah—I thought you were a practical man."

"You and I look at things differently," snapped Reith, turning away. He started for Fodor's former tent, into which he and Alicia had moved their things. As he neared the tent, however, a singular sight assailed his eyes.

Cyril Ordway, wearing only a khaki shirt and slippers, ran out of the tent, pursued by Alicia Dyckman, clad in riding breeches and shirt but barefoot, and swinging a sword. Being faster than the bulky Ordway, she caught up with him, tripped him, and stood over him as he sprawled prone.

"You lie there," Alicia cried in her clear soprano, "or I'll cut your damned head off!"

With the point of the sword, she raised the tail of Ordway's shirt, exposing his fat buttocks. Then she swung the sword in both hands and brought the flat of the blade down on Ordway's fundament.

Ordway grunted. Up went the sword, and down again. At the third blow, Ordway uttered a little cry. At the sixth, he began whimper: "Alicia! That hurts! Please! I'll never bother you again!"

Alicia continued her merciless bastinado until Ordway's buttocks were red in the firelight and oozing blood. "Now get up and get out!" she snapped.

Ordway crawled a few paces, then rose and hobbled towards his tent.

"Darling!" said Reith. "My Valkyrie!"

Alicia gave him a hug. Reaching their new quarters, Reith sat down, rested his chin on his fist, and asked: "What the hell did that two-legged cockroach do?"

"When Doc Hamid chased me away from your bedside, I came back here, meaning to snatch some sleep," she explained. "I was bushed after that breakneck ride to the fort. I'd just taken off my boots when Old Repulsive came in wearing that sword the Krishnans lent him for the battle. I suppose he thought it made him look heroic; though from what I hear, you, Ken, Randal, Tony, and Attila were the only ones who actually crossed swords with the invaders. Randal killed one of the Kamoran's bodyguards, and Tony says he cut another one but doesn't know how much harm he did in the confusion. After Attila drilled the Kamoran, his people's one thought was to get him away, since they didn't know whether he was wounded or dead.

"Anyway, Cyril sat down and poured sweet talk over me like syrup on a waffle. I was his ideal of womanhood, and why hadn't he met me sooner—his same old line. He insisted on calling me 'Lady Alicia'; you know how he is about tides. Then he unbuckled his sword and slithered up close, if you can imagine a stuffed pigeon like Cyril slithering.

"He said he knew I was yours; but he loved me, too; and soon he'd never see me again, and I could make him the happiest man in the world, and it was such a small parting gift to ask, and it wasn't as if I were a virgin, and how marvelous he was at rogering, as he calls it I kept pushing his hands away.

"Then he did an incredible thing. He slipped off his pants, and he wasn't wearing underwear. I suppose he thought the sight of his—uh—capabilities would so inflame my passions that I'd throw myself across the bed crying: Take me! I am yours!' As you saw, it didn't quite work out that way."

Reith had gone into a laughing jag, rocking helplessly back and forth on the bed. When he caught his breath, he said: "I—I ought to beat the sh—stuffing out of Cyril. But the sight of him eating standing up for days, with everybody kidding him, is revenge enough. And it's all happened for the best, in a way."

"What do you mean?" Alicia asked, suspiciously.

"Since you got back to Krishna, I've been afraid that the Moritzian therapy, besides curing your compulsions, might have taken the spunk out of you. I see now that I needn't have worried!"