James Schmiz - The Witches of Karres

“He is,” Sedmon said. “Of course he doesn’t know for whom he’s working.”

“Of course. I know Kambine’s background. He’s nothing.”

“Nothing,” the Daal agreed.

“Laes Yango?”

“A man to be reckoned with in his field.”

“What specifically is his field? I’ve been able to get very little information on him.”

“He deals. High-value, high-profit items only. He maintains his own cruiser, makes frequent space trips, uses other carriers for special purposes, as in this case. He banks a considerable amount of money at all times, makes and receives large payments at irregular intervals to and from undisclosed accounts by subradio. Some of his business seems to be legitimate.”

“He should not become a problem then?” Hulik said.

“There is no reason to assume he would be, in this matter.” The Dad looked at her curiously. “Am I to understand you intend to continue your efforts to obtain the drive, even if Captain Aron turns out to be what I suspect he is?”

“I do intend that,” Hulik nodded. “I have my own theory about your Karres witches.”

“What is that?”

“They are, among other things, skilled and purposeful bluffers. The disappearing world story, for example. Karres has been described to me as a primitive, forested planet showing no detectable signs of inhabitation. There are many such uninhabited worlds. Few are even indicated in standard star maps. It seems most probable to me that the witches, instead of moving Karres through space, themselves move by more conventional methods of travel from one world of that sort to a similar one elsewhere — and presently let it be known that ‘Karres’ was magically transported by them to a new galactic sector! I believe their purpose is to frighten everyone, including even the Imperium, into leaving them severely alone. That they are capable of a number of astonishing tricks seems true. It is even possible they have developed a superdrive to transport ordinary spaceships. But worlds?” She shook her head skeptically. “Pausert may be a Karres witch. If so, his mysterious powers have not revealed to him even the simple fact that Vezzarn was planted on him as a spy… No, I’m not afraid of the witches!”

“You don’t feel afraid of the Chaladoor either?” the Daal asked.

“A little,” Hulik admitted. “But considerably more afraid of not getting the drive from Captain Pausert, if it should turn out later that there really was such a thing on his ship. When the stakes are high, the Imperium becomes a stringent employer!” She shrugged. “And since success in this might be as deadly to me as failure, you and Uldune can count on me… afterwards.”

A colored, soundless whirlwind was spinning slowly and steadily about the captain. He watched it bemusedly a while, then had his attention distracted by a puzzled awareness that he seemed to be sitting upright, none too comfortably, on something like a cold stone floor, his back touching something like a cold stone wall. He realized suddenly that he had his eyes closed, and decided he might as well open them.

He did. The giddily spinning colors faded from his vision; the world grew steady. But what place was this?… What was he doing here?

He glanced around. It seemed a big underground vault, wide and low, perhaps a hundred and fifty feet long. Thick stone pillars supported the curved ceiling sections. A number of glowing white globes in iron cages hung by chains from the ceiling, giving a vague general illumination to the place. Across the vault, the captain saw a narrow staircase leading up through the wall. It seemed the only exit.

On his right, some thirty feet away, was a fireplace…

He gazed at the fireplace thoughtfully. It was built into the wall; in it was a large, hot coal fire. The individual coals glowed bright red, and continuous flickerings of heat ran over the piled mass. A poker shaped like a small slender spear stood at a slant, its tip in the coals, its handle resting on a bronze fire grate.

Some feet away from the fire was a marble-topped table. Beside it, a large wooden tub.

It was an odd-looking arrangement. And why should anyone build such a great fire on a warmish spring evening on Uldune? He could feel the waves of heat rolling out of it from here.

Warmish spring evening — the captain’s memory suddenly awoke. This was the day they’d made a complete ground check of the Evening Bird’s instrumentation. Everything was in faultless working order; he and Goth had been delighted. Then Goth had gone back to the house. Sunnat, who’d attended the check-out with Filish, suggested sociably he buy them a drink as reward for the good job the firm had done so far. But Filish had excused himself.

He could see no harm in buying her a drink. There’d been a low-ceilinged, half dark, expensive bar off the spaceport. Somebody guided them around a couple of corners, left them at a table in a dim-lit niche by themselves. The drinks appeared — and right around then that rainbow-hued whirlwind seemed to have begun revolving around him. He couldn’t recall another thing.

Well, no sense sitting here and pondering about it! He’d go upstairs, find someone to tell him where he was and what had happened to Sunnat. He gathered his legs under him, then made another discovery. This one was startling.

A narrow metal ring was closed around his right ankle. A slender chain was locked to the ring, and eight feet away the chain ended in a link protruding from the solid wall. He stared down at it in shocked outrage. Why, he was a prisoner here! Conflicting surmises tumbled in momentary confusion through his mind. The most likely thought seemed then that there’d been trouble of some kind in the bar and that as a result he’d wound up in one of the Daal’s jails… but he still couldn’t remember a thing about it.

The captain scrambled to his feet, the chain making mocking clanks along the floor beside him. “Hey!” he yelled angrily. “Hey! Somebody here?”

For a moment he thought he’d heard a low laugh somewhere. But there was no one in sight.

“ Hey! ”

“Why, what’s the trouble, Captain Aron?”

He turned, saw Sunnat twenty feet off on his left, standing beside one of the thick pillars which supported the ceiling of the vault. She must have stepped out from behind it that very moment.

The captain stared at her. She was in one of her costumes. This one consisted of crimson trousers and slippers, a narrow strip of glittering green material wound tightly about her breasts, and a crimson turban which concealed her hair and had a great gleaming green stone set in the front of it above her forehead. She stood motionless, her face in shadow, watching him.

The costume didn’t make her appear attractive or seductive. Standing in the big, silent vault, she looked spooky and menacing. Her head shifted slightly and there seemed to be a momentary glitter in the eyes of the shadowed face. The captain cleared his throat, twisted his mouth into a smile.

“You had me worried, Sunnat!” he admitted. “How did you do it? I really thought I was waking up in an Uldune prison!”

Sunnat didn’t answer. She turned, started over towards the fireplace as if he hadn’t spoken.

“How about getting me loose from the wall now?” the captain said coaxingly. “A joke’s a joke… but there are really a number of things I should be taking care of. And I told, uh, Dani I’d be home in time for dinner.”

Sunnat turned her head, eyes half shut, and gave him an odd, slow smile. It sent a chill down his spine. He wished he hadn’t mentioned Goth.

“Come on, Sunnat!” He put a touch of annoyance into his voice. “We’re grown ups, and this game’s getting a little childish!”