Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“Come on, gentlemen, you’ve been stalling long enough. You may as well accept. It’s all you can do and you know it.”

They turned. Ethan hadn’t thought to hear that voice again.

Walther walked through the screened door to the right of the throne, took a seat at its base, and smiled at them. No one offered greeting.

“Well, don’t look so stunned,” he admonished them in fluent Trannish. It was the first time Ethan had heard him speak the native language, though he’d admitted to knowing it before. “I confess I was in tight for a while there. Afraid one of these hairy berserkers would run a spear through me before I could explain who I was and what I had to offer. Once I got through to a perceptive captain-type, he had me brought to the boss-lady here. We had a nice chat.

“Of course, it was too late for me to do anything about the battle she’d already lost, but I had a few other suggestions. I managed a private looksee at the shrimp’s plans for a big raft. Wasn’t hard to figure out what you intended to do with it. The main remainder of the Horde slunk off for a little subsistence raiding and thieving, but small rafts made up to look like merchant ships were always shuttling back and forth between us and the harbor.

“We knew when each mast was set in place, when every box of stores was taken on board. As soon as you shoved off and got a little out of sight, we followed. Not only do I know where you’re headed as well as you do, but that big raft cuts a helluva gash in the ice. Easy to follow.

“Only thing I hadn’t figured on was the speed that thing makes. If you hadn’t had the decency to run into that big grass-eater, we’d still be chasing you. Everything will work out nicely now, though.”

“Yes, I can see it, too,” said Ethan, surprising himself again by breaking in. “You’ll take a picked group of these murderers and sail on to Arsudun. Not knowing you from normal humanfolk, the humanx authorities will ignore you. Then you find your associates. If they don’t fry you out of hand for bungling the whole enterprise, you’ll explain the situation to them, fly back here in an air-car, pick up the du Kanes, and with only a little time lost, continue your original plan to hold them up for ransom. Neat. And us?”

“Believe me,” said Walther sincerely, “I wish I’d never set eyes on either of you. Or that teacher, either. Yes, that’s a fair scenario. You can make your own way into Brass Monkey. By the time you can get another boat built, make it to Wannome from here, and then to Arsudun, we should have received our credits and scattered to the far corners of the Arm.”

September pointed at the listening Sagyanak. “One other little item. What does she get for providing you with transportation and protection, um?”

“Oh, in return for her help, Her Majesty will retain the lovely big raft you’ve built.”

“That all?”

“Well, I did sort of promise her a few crates of modern arms and maybe a small cannon or two once we’ve been paid off.”

“Leaving aside the fact,” September continued, “that that’s a violation of every rule for contact with Class Four-B worlds, just what do you imagine this she-scorpion will do with ’em?”

“Why, I expect that Her Majesty,” he said, glancing over at her , “will sail pronto back to our frigid foster icebox and reduce the place to rubble. After which, without killing off too many of the populace, she’ll resume her former status as protector of commerce in the territory. As for ‘laws,’ ” he continued contemptuously, “through sabotage of an interstellar liner and kidnapping of you all, I’ve already made myself a candidate for mindwipe. I’m not in the least concerned with what the locals intend to do with any new toys I might choose to give them.”

“I should have broken your neck when I had the opportunity,” observed September calmly.

“Yes, you should have. But you’ve missed your chance. Agree, and you can at least get out of here with your hide. Refuse and we’ll take the boat from you anyway. Fight and you’ll be overrun. Try to run away and we’ll cut that broken skate free and fire the sails. You are good and well stuck, friends.”

“Even if we do agree, what if the tran don’t go along with us?” asked Ethan. Walther shrugged.

“That’s your problem. I think you’d better convince them. Oh yes, one other thing. I’d like you to leave the brat… what’s her name?… Colette… with me, as a guarantee you won’t try and follow us into Brass Monkey on the rafts we leave you. It wouldn’t do for you to sail in a couple of days after me and let the peaceforcers in on our little secret, would it?”

Something very like a cackle came from the throne. This request, demon-origin or not, she could understand.

“Maybe you’d like me to cut off my right arm, as a further gesture of insurance?” asked September sarcastically.

“Naw, keep it. I’m feeling generous today.” He grinned, a small mind in a sudden position of power and enjoying every minute of it.

“We will return to our ship and inform you of our decision,” said Hunnar, unable to listen to any more of this without going for certain throats.

“You’ve got half an hour by the sun,” replied Walther easily. “You can spend the time counting houris for all I care. If you agree to the terms, take in the banner at your stern. If not, well,” he shrugged, “I’ve done my best for you.”

“I don’t wonder that she calls you the Mad One,” guessed Ethan.

Walther started and lost a little of his composure.

“Watch your mouth, bright-eyes. This is no sales convention.”

“And you’re certainly no door prize,” he said as they left the throne room.

Ethan tried to affect a nonchalant attitude as they slid back over the ice. But he didn’t really relax until they had passed through the encirclement. Now there were plenty of women and cubs in the group, who looked every bit as ragged and vicious as the menfolk. Obviously Sagyanak was leaving nothing to chance. This was to be a supreme effort on her part.

And why not, with such a prize? With modern weapons she could rule as much of the planet as she chose without far-off humanx authorities ever finding out about them.

“Of course we can’t agree to this,” he said to no one in particular.

“Of course not,” September said. “But it did kill some time. Maybe enough. In any case we must try to get away now. The thought of even a single decent pistol in the hands of that horror makes my stomach crawl.”

“You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?” said Ethan suddenly, giving him an odd look. September chose not to reply. He turned instead to talk to Hunnar.

“We’ll have to hold them off and pick the best opening, then break for it.”

Balavere and Ta-hoding were waiting with anxious expressions when they reboarded the raft. It felt good to be back on the high deck, even if it was destined to become a baroque coffin within the hour. The barbarian hostages scrambled with poor grace to get over the side. Hunnar watched them speed for the safety of the encampment with obvious disdain.

Something unseen hit Ethan, planted a freezing kiss on one cheek and vanished down a forward hatch. Ethan caught only a glimpse of flying fur and a hint of a pink face.

“What was that?” he mumbled, rather stupidly.

“Why, that was Colette du Kane, young feller.” September grinned. “Wonder why it is that impending destruction always gives women the hots?”

“Deity, Skua! Sometimes your crudity exceeds all standards!”

“Please, no compliments before battle,” he replied.

They explained to the others the results of their one-sided “parley.” Ta-hoding was rapidly being reduced to a quivering wreck. Balavere just listened quietly, nodding now and again at something Hunnar said, questioning September, until they’d both finished.