Jack Vance - The Asutra

Fabrache leapt from his pacer and stepped forward. "Put aside your weapons! We are travelers of the Orgai and fugitives from Hozman Sore-throat! We request protection for the night."

"All very well, but what of that one-eyed demoniac creature? We have heard tales; it is a Red Devil! "

"Nothing of the sort! The Red Devils are all dead, killed in a recent battle. This is the sole survivor of a wrecked spaceship."

"In that case, kill it as well. Why should we nurture off-world enemies?"

Ifness spoke in a measured and aristocratic voice, 'The matter is more complicated than this. I intend to learn the language of this creature, if it is able to talk. This knowledge will help us defeat our enemies."

"It is a matter for Karazan. Stand in your tracks; we are a suspicious people."

A moment later an enormous man strode forward, taller by a head than Fabrache. His face was no less impressive than his bulk; keen eyes glittered under a broad brow, a short beard clothed his cheeks and chin. He required a single second to appraise the situation, then turned a glance of contemptuous derogation toward the guards. "What is the difficulty? When have Alula feared three men and a monster? Let them in. " He scowled down at the riverbank where Hozman Sore-throat and his band rested %their pacers, then sauntered back the way he had come. The warriors put aside their crossbows and stood back. "Enter as you will. Take your pacers to the pen. Bed yourselves where you like, except in company with our wives. " "You have our gratitude," Fabrache declared. "Mind, that is Hozman Sore-throat, the expert slaver, yonder; let no one stray outside the camp, or he will never to be seen again."

Etzwane was intrigued by the camp, and by certain elements of barbaric splendor which in the popular imagination of Shant characterized all the tribes of Caraz. The green, pink, and magenta tents had been embroidered in marvelous starbursts and radiants. The carved tent stakes stood eight feet tall, displaying fetishes of four sorts: winged scorpions, wisk-weasels, Lake Nior kingfish, Lake Nior pelicans. The men of the camp wore trousers of pounded ahulph leather, glossy black boots, embroidered vests over loose white blouses. Married women wound their heads with purple and green scarves, their full gowns were of various colors; girls, however, swaggered about in breeches and boots like the men. Before each tent a cauldron bubbled over a fire, and the odors of spices and stewing meat permeated the camp. In front of the ceremonial wain sat the elders, passing a leather flask of aquavita back and forth. Nearby four other men, each wearing a string of golden beads, made desultory music upon stringed instruments.

No one gave the newcomers more than cursory attention; they went to the area indicated to them, unloaded their pacers, and laid out their beds. The alien watched without apparent interest. Fabrache dared not go to the river for clams or crayfish and cooked an austere meal of porridge and dried meat; the alien drank water and thrust a quantity of porridge into its maw without enthusiasm. Children of the camp began to gather and watched in wide-eyed wonder. They were joined by others, progressively older, and presently one put a timid question, "Is the creature tame?"

"It seems to be," said Etzwane. "It came to Durdane in a spaceship, so it is certainly civilized."

"Is it your slave? " asked another.

"Not exactly. We rescued it from a wrecked spaceship, and now we want to learn how to talk to it."

"Can it do wonderful magic?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Does it dance? " asked one of the girls. "Bring it to where the music is played and we will watch its fanciful acts."

"It neither dances nor plays music," said Etzwane.

"What a tiresome beast."

A woman came to scold the children and sent them about their business, and the group was left in peace.

Fabrache spoke to Ifness. "How do you intend to keep the creature for the night? Must we stand a guard?"

"I think not," said Ifness. "It might then consider itself a prisoner and seek to escape. It knows that we are its source of food and security, and I believe that it will stay with us of its own volition. Still we will maintain an unobtrusive watch. " Ifness now addressed himself to the creature and attempted the rudiments of communication: placing down first one pebble, then two, then three, while saying "One… two… three… " and signaling the alien to do likewise, but to no avail. Ifness next directed the creature's attention to the sky, where the stars blazed bright and clear. Ifness pointed here and there in a questioning fashion, and even took the creature's hard finger and pointed it about the sky. "It is either extremely intelligent or extremely stupid," grumbled Ifness. "Still, were the asutra in command we would derive no more information. There is no cause for complaint."

From the central fire came the sound of energetic music, and Etzwane went to watch the dancing. The youths and maidens, forming into lines, swayed, kicked, capered, swung each other in circles, all in the most exuberant fashion. The music seemed uncomplicated to Etzwane, even somewhat naive, but as vigorous and forthright as the dancing. Some of the girls were extremely handsome, he thought, and showed little diffidence… He toyed with the idea of playing music and went so far as to examine a spare instrument of bizarre and exaggerated construction. He sounded the strings, but the frets were oddly spaced and tuning was to a strange mode. Etzwane doubted his ability to use the instrument. He struck a few chords, using his usual fingering. The results were strange but not displeasing. A girl stood over him, smiling. "Do you play music?"

"Yes, but this instrument is unfamiliar to me."

"What is your race and fetish?"

Tama man of Shant; I was born a Chilite in Canton Bastern."

The girl shook her head in bewilderment. "They must be far lands; I have never heard of them. Are you a slave-taker?"

"No. My friend and I came to look at the strange spaceships."

"Such things are interesting."

The girl was pretty, vivacious, and beautifully formed, and Etzwane thought that she seemed pleasantly disposed. He suddenly felt an inclination to play music, and bent his head over the instrument to learn its system of harmonics… He retuned the strings, and found that by thinking in the unusual Kudarian mode the instrument fell under his control. He cautiously played a few phrases, and tried to follow the music, with a degree of success.

"Come," said the girl. She took him to the other musicians and brought him the leather flask from which all had been drinking. Etzwane allowed himself a cautious swallow; the sting of the spirit caused him to laugh and blow out his breath. "Laugh again! " the girl commanded. "Musicians should never be somber, even when their mood is tragic; their eyes should show colored lights."

One of the musicians glowered first at the girl then at Etzwane, who decided to be discreet. He played tentative chords, and with increasing confidence joined the music. The theme was simple and played insistently again and again, but each time with a small alteration: the prolongation of a beat, a twanged note, a trifle of emphasis here or there. The musicians seemed to vie in producing the most subtle changes in the succession; and meanwhile the music became even more intense and compelling, and the dancers swirled, jerked arms, kicked, and stamped in the firelight… Etzwane began to wonder when the music would stop, and how. The others would know the signal; they would try to catch him napping, so that when he played on alone he would seem ridiculous: an ancient prank to work upon the stranger. All would know when the tune should end; there would be a side-glance, a raised elbow, a hiss, a shift of position… The signal came; Etzwane felt its presence. As he had expected, the music stopped short; he instantly broke into a variation in a different mode, a pulsing statement even more compelling than the first theme, and presently the musicians, some grinning, some with wry winces, again joined the music… Etzwane laughed and bent over the instrument, which now had become familiar, and began to produce runs and trills… The music at last halted. The girl came to sit beside Etzwane and proffered the flask of spirit. Etzwane drank and, putting' down the flask, asked, "What is your name?"