Philip Farmer - The Green Odyssey

«Wha-what do you mean?»

Stunned, he looked at them again. If those weren't star-ships he'd eat the yacht's canvas. Yes, and the wheels, too.

Under the swift wind, the 'roller swept closer and closer while he stood behind Amra and thought that he'd break into little pieces if his tension didn't find some release.

Finally it did find an outlet. Tears welled in his eyes, and he choked. His breast seemed as if it would swell up and burst.

How cleverly the ancient builders had fashioned those towers! The landing struts, the big fins, the long sweeping lines ending in the pointed nose, all must have been built with a spaceship as a model. There was no escaping such a conclusion; coincidence couldn't explain it.

Amra said, «Don't cry, Alan. Your people will think you weak. Captains don't weep.»

«This captain does,» he replied, and he turned and walked the length of the yacht to the stern and leaned over the taffrail where no one could see him as he shook with sobs.

Presently he felt a hand upon his.

«Alan,» she said gently. «Tell me the truth. If those had been ships on which you could leave this world and travel into the skies, would you have taken me along? Were you still thinking that I was not-not good enough for you?»

«Let's not talk about it now,» he said. «I can't. Besides, there are too many people listening. Later, when everybody's asleep.»

«All right, Alan.»

She released his hand and left him alone, knowing that that was what he wanted. Mentally, he thanked her for it, because he knew what it was costing her to exercise restraint. At any other time, in a like situation, she would have thrown something at him.

After he had calmed down somewhat he returned to the helm and took over from Miran. From then on he was too busy to think much about his disappointment. He had to report to the port officer and tell his story, which took hours, for the officer called in the others to hear his amazing tale. And they questioned Miran and Amra. Green anxiously listened to the merchant's account, fearful that the fellow would disclose his suspicions that Green was not what he claimed to be. If Miran had any such intentions, however, he was saving them for their arrival in Estorya itself.

The officers all agreed that they had heard many wonderful stories from sailors but never anything to match this. They insisted upon giving a banquet for Miran and Green. The result was that Green got a much-needed and desired bath, hair cut and shave. But he also had to endure a long feast in which he had to stuff himself to keep from offending his hosts and also was forced to enter a drinking contest with some of the younger blades of the post. His Vigilante could handle enormous amounts of food and alcohol, so that Green appeared to the soldiers to be something of a superman. At midnight the last officer had dropped his head upon the table, dead drunk, and Green was able to get up and go to his yacht.

Unfortunately he had to carry the fat merchant out on his shoulders. Outside the banquet room he found a few rickshaw boys standing around a fire, huddled together, waiting for a customer so drunk he wouldn't fear thieves or ghosts. He gave one of them a coin and told him to deliver Miran to the yacht.

«What about yourself, honored sir? Don't you wish to ride home, too?»

«Later,» said Green, looking up past the fort and at the hills behind it. «I intend to take a walk to clear my head.»

Before the rickshaw men could question him further he plunged into the darkness and began striding swiftly toward the highest peak upon the island.

Two hours later he suddenly appeared in the moonlight-drenched windbreak, walked past the many vessels tied down for the night and crawled aboard his own yacht. A glance around the deck convinced him that everybody was sleeping. He stepped softly past the prostrate forms and lay down by Amra. Face up, his hands behind his head, he stared at the moon, a thoughtful expression upon his face.

Amra whispered, «Alan, I thought you were going to talk to me tonight.»

He stiffened but did not turn his head to look at her.

«I was, but the officers kept us up late. Didn't Miran get here?»

«Yes, about five minutes before you did.»

He rose on one elbow and looked searchingly at her. «What?»

«Is there anything strange about that?»

«Only that he was so drunk he'd passed out and was snoring like a pig. The fat son of an izzot! He must have been faking! And he must have…»

«Must have what?»

Green shrugged. «I don't know.»

He couldn't tell her that Miran must have followed him up into the hills. And that if he had the fellow must have seen some very disturbing things.

He stood up and gazed intently at the dark forms stretched out here and there. Miran was sleeping upon a blanket behind the helm. Or was pretending to do so.

Should he kill him? If Miran turned him in to the authorities in Estorya…

He sat down again and fingered his dagger.

Amra must have guessed his thoughts, for she said, «Why do you want to kill him?»

«You know why. Because he could have me burned.»

She sucked her breath in with a hiss.

«Alan, it can't be true! You can't be a demon!»

To him the accusation was so ridiculous that he didn't bother to answer. He should have known better, because he was well aware of how seriously these people took such things. However, he was thinking so furiously about what he could do to forestall Miran, that he completely forgot about her. Not until he heard her muffled sobs did he come out of his reverie. Surprised, he said, «Don't worry. They're not going to burn me.»

«No, they're not,» she said, choking on every other word. «I don't care if you are a demon. I love you, and I'd go to hell for you or with you!»

It took him a few seconds to understand that she did believe he was a demon and that it made no difference to her. Or, rather, she was determined to ignore the difference. What a sacrifice of her natural feelings she must have made for him! She, like everybody upon this world, had been trained from childhood to develop a fierce disgust and horror of devils and to be always upon her guard for them when they appeared in human form. What an abyss she had to cross in order to conquer her deep revulsion! In a way, her feat was greater than crossing the chasm between the stars.

«Amra,» he said, deeply touched, and he bent down to kiss her.

To his surprise she turned her face away.

«You know my lips don't belch fire, like the devils' in the legends,» he said, half-jestingly, half-pityingly. «Nor will I suck your soul into my mouth.»

«You have already done that,» she said, still not facing him.

«Oh, Amra!»

«Yes, you have! Else why should I follow you when you deserted me to run away on the Bird? And why should I still want to follow you, to be with you, even if those towers had turned out to be your what-do-you-call-'em? and you had sailed away into the skies on them? Why would any decent human woman want to do that? Tell me!»

She, too, rose on an elbow, her face now turned to him. He scarcely recognized her, her features were so twisted and her skin was so livid.

«A hundred times during this voyage I've wished you would die. Why? Because then I wouldn't have to think about the time to come when you would leave this world forever, leave me forever! But when you were in danger, then I almost died, too, and I knew I didn't really wish your death. It was just wounded pride on my part. And I couldn't face the moment of your departure! Or the fact that you must come from a superior race, a people more like gods than demons!

«Oh, I didn't know what to think! Whether you were a devil, or a god, or just a man who was somehow more of a man than any I knew. I could ignore such things as your wounds healing up faster than they should and scar tissues disappearing. But I couldn't ignore your knowledge that Aga would be killed if she touched that wall in the room on the cannibals' island. Nor the fact that your teeth grew back in after they were knocked out during the escape from the island. Nor your too obvious interest in those two demons held prisoner in Estorya. Or…»