George Martin - Old Mars

“You lie to me,” she said. “All the time you lie to me.”

“Of course I do,” answered Scorpio. “We’re in Razzo the Slug’s. It might even be against the law to tell the truth here.”

She uttered a Martian obscenity. “Earthman!” she added contemptuously, stalking off.

Happy? asked Scorpio.

Thrilled , came the answer. By the way, someone’s looking for you .

The girl went and got a weapon?

The creature snorted. By the door. The Martian with the bag .

Scorpio looked across the bar at a Martian who had just entered. He was small, stooped over (which was rare in the lighter gravity), showing signs of age, and carrying a cloth bag over what passed for his shoulder.

You’re sure he’s for me? thought Scorpio.

Of course I’m sure , came the reply. Not everyone requires speech to communicate, you know. Some of us evolved beyond that eons ago .

Then why were you living in a swamp when we met? asked Scorpio with that unique, not quite humorless, smile of his.

Why are you in a bar with criminals and reprobates from all over the solar system? I went to the swamp where the food was, and you go where the money is so you can buy the food, an extra step my race has no use for .

Scorpio stared down at the creature. So why do you hang around with such a primitive being as me?

You’re the deadliest being I have ever encountered , came the answer. There’s always the chance of fresh food when I’m with you .

Scorpio watched the Martian approach. Okay, you’re the telepath. What does he want?

He’s come a long way. I’ll let him tell you .

Why bother? I’m just going to send him packing .

I don’t think so , replied the creature.

Then the Martian reached the table and stood there, staring uneasily at Scorpio.

“You are the Scorpion?” he asked hesitantly.

Scorpio nodded. Then he remembered that most Martians didn’t know that nodding was an affirmative. “Some people call me that, yes.”

“May I … May I sit down?” asked the Martian, indicating an empty chair opposite Scorpio.

“Go ahead.”

The Martian took a step toward the chair, then realized that he would have to pass very close to the blue creature. He froze and just stared at it, afraid to move.

“It’s all right,” said Scorpio when he realized that the Martian might well stand there motionless all night. “His name’s Merlin. He’s my pet.”

Your pet?

Why tell anyone what you really are? It works to our advantage to have them think you’re a dumb animal .

I may just bite your leg off .

“I have never seen anything like him,” said the Martian timidly.

“Not many people have,” replied Scorpio, as the Martian carefully walked around Merlin and seated himself. “What can I do for you?”

“I have been told that you are the one being best suited for the work I am preparing to do,” said the Martian.

Who does he want killed, I wonder? said Merlin wordlessly.

You could tell me right now .

Me? I’m just a dumb animal .

“Just what kind of work do you have in mind?” asked Scorpio.

“Perhaps I should properly introduce myself first.”

Scorpio shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“My name is Quedipai, and I spent more than a century as a professor of ancient history at the university in Baratora, which you know as New Brussels.”

“Okay, so you taught history and you’re not a kid anymore,” said Scorpio. “What has this got to do with me?”

Quedipai leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I believe that I have discovered the location of the lost Tomb of the Martian Kings.”

Scorpio snorted contemptuously. “Sure you have.”

“But I have !”

“On my world, it’s King Solomon’s Mines. On Venus, it’s the Temple of the Forgotten Angel. On Mercury, it’s the Darkside Palace. And on Mars, it’s the Tomb of the Martian Kings.”

“There have been two attempts on my life already,” said Quedipai. “I need protection. More than that. I am an academic. I need someone who is aware of all the hazards I will encounter in the wildest section of the western dead sea bottom, and who can avoid or neutralize the worst of it.”

“I wish you luck,” said Scorpio.

“You will not accompany me?”

“Not interested.”

“You have not heard my offer yet.”

“I’ve been to the western sea bottom. It’s called Balthial, and whoever told you it was dangerous understated the case,” said Scorpio. “I’m happy right here.”

“Will you at least let me name a price?” said Quedipai.

“Buy me another whiskey and you can talk your head off.”

“What kind?” asked the Martian, getting to his feet.

Scorpio held his empty glass up and studied it. “I’m tired of this stuff. I’ll have a glass of that bluish joyjoice they brew in Luna City.”

The Martian went to the bar and returned with a glass, which he set down carefully on the table in front of Scorpio, then took his seat.

“It’s smoking,” he noted.

“It’s old enough,” replied Scorpio, lifting the glass and taking a swallow.

“You are not my last chance, Scorpion,” said the Martian. “But from everything I’ve been able to find out, and I am a very thorough researcher, you are my best chance.” Scorpio stared at him patiently and with very little interest. Finally, he took a deep breath, leaned forward, and said so softly that no one else could hear: “Four hundred thousand tjoubi , the hunt not to exceed fifty days.”

Quick , thought Scorpio. What’s that in real money?

A quarter of a million credits , answered Merlin.

You can read his mind. Is he telling the truth, and has he actually got the money?

Yes, and yes .

Scorpio stared at the Martian. “What was your name again?”

“Quedipai,” was the answer.

“Cutie Pie,” said Scorpio.

“Quedipai,” repeated the Martian.

“Right,” said Scorpio, nodding. “Cutie Pie, you’ve got yourself a deal. Half down, half on completion, and we’re yours for the next fifty days.”

Quedipai pulled out a sheaf of large-denomination bills. Scorpio took it and stuffed it in a pocket.

Don’t you want to count it?

Flash that much in Razzo’s? Don’t be silly. We’ll count it later. If he’s short, we’re not going anywhere till he makes it up .

“You mentioned ‘we’?” asked the Martian curiously.

“Merlin and me. Like I told you, he’s my pet.”

Quedipai stared at the creature.

You wouldn’t believe what he’s thinking right now .

“Trust me,” said Scorpio, “if we run into any trouble, you’ll be glad he came along.”

“I will take your word for it,” said the Martian. He took the bag from his shoulder and placed it on the table. “Is it safe to show this to you now?”

“If I can’t protect you in a bar, I sure as hell can’t protect you once we leave what passes for civilization around here,” answered Scorpio.

Quedipai reached into the bag and pulled out a very old map. He opened it and spread it on the table.

“Okay,” said Scorpio, “it’s Balthial.”

“Do you see this small mark here?” asked the Martian, pointing a triply jointed finger toward it.

“Looks like a speck of dust.”

“It is three miles across.”

“Okay,” said Scorpio, unimpressed. “There’s a three-mile speck of dust on the sea bottom.”