Philip Farmer - The Green Odyssey

«Not so loud, Amra,» he interrupted. «You'll wake everybody up.»

«All right, all right. Better to keep quiet and pretend to be stupid. But I can't, I'm not built that way. So… what are you going to do, Alan?»

«Do? Do?» he repeated miserably. «Why, somehow or other I'm going to free those two poor devils and escape in their spaceship.»

«Devils? Then they are demons!»

«Oh, no, that was just a manner of speaking. I said poor devils because of what they must have gone through in that barbarous prison. They might as well have been in the hands of the cannibals as at the mercy of the priests of this wretched planet.»

«Yes, that's what you really think of us, isn't it? That we're all murderous, dirty and stinking savages.»

«Oh, not all of you,» he replied. «You're not, Amra. By any standards, you're a wonderful woman.»

«Then why can't..?»

She bit her lip and turned away from him. She would not humble herself by asking him to take her with him. It was up to him to make the offer.

Green did not know what to say, though he knew that it was necessary to say something at once.

He just could not make up his mind as to how she would fit into Earth civilization.

How could he teach her that if somebody whom you didn't like differed with you, you just didn't try to tear them apart? Or that if the person you hated was too powerful for you to settle matters with personally you didn't resort to professional assassins?

How could he teach her to love the same things he did, the music and literature of his own culture? Her roots were in an entirely different culture. She couldn't possibly understand what he understood, thrill to that which thrilled him, catch the subtleties that he caught, see what lay behind the nuances of his civilization. She'd be a stranger in a world not made for her.

Of course, he thought, there were plenty of women upon Earth and her star-colonies who didn't share his culture, even if they'd been brought up in it. But their case was simply a matter of taste. And they could still share a certain amount with him, just because they'd breathed the same atmosphere and talked the same words as he. Not that he would have cared to live with them, because he wouldn't. But Amra, desirable in so many ways, just would not understand what was taking place around her or in the minds of those she would have to live with.

He looked down at Amra. Her back was turned, and she seemed to be breathing the easy breath of deep sleep. Though he doubted very much that she could be sleeping, he decided to accept things as they looked. He wouldn't answer her now, though he knew that when morning came her eyes would be asking the same question, even if she didn't voice it.

At least, he thought, she'd been diverted from her curiosity about what he'd been doing that night. That was something. He didn't want anybody to know about that. Not until the time for action came!

Provided, that is, that he could do anything even then. He'd discovered certain things tonight that could mean his salvation if he could utilize them.

That was the rub, as some poet or other had once said.

Wondering just who had originated that saying, he fell asleep. Woolgathering had always been a favorite occupation of his when people left him alone to do it. That was the rub. They didn't.

SHORTLY AFTER DAWN the yacht set sail and sped toward Estorya, a hundred miles west. The breeze was a strong thirty-five miles an hour, precursor of the violent winds that roared across the Xurdimur during the rainy season. Green set every inch of sail he had and took over the helm himself. Steering was not as simple as it had been, for traffic was getting heavy. In an hour he saw no less than forty 'rollers, ranging in size from small merchants not much larger than his own craft to tremendous three-decker 'rollers-of-the-line from far-off Batrim, convoying even larger merchant vessels, high-pooped and richly decorated. Then, as they came to within fifty miles of their destination, small pleasure yachts appeared in increasing numbers. And by the time they saw the white rocket-shaped towers that stretched from horizon to horizon, Green was sweating at the manner in which craft were shooting back and forth in front of him.

Miran said, «The entire nation is surrounded by these white towers and by many fortresses interspersed between them. Inside the great circle of towers the Estoryans have many rich farms on the plains. The city proper, however, is built on three roaming islands that were captured by their magic many centuries ago.»

Green raised his eyebrows at this information. «Indeed? And where is the vessel that brought the two demons down from the skies?»

Miran locked blankly at the Earthman, though he knew well enough that he was keenly interested in the so-called demons.

«Oh, it is located close to the palace of the king himself, but not on the hills. It landed on the plain.»

«Hmm. And the strangers will be burned during the Festival of the Eye of the Sun?»

«If they have lived, they will be.»

Green didn't like to think about their dying. If they had, then his problem was solved. He stayed upon this planet and did the best he could here.

There was one thing he had to admit. That was that having Amra as his wife made such an event not so calamitous as it might have been. She'd keep him so interested that time would pass swiftly, even on this barbarous place.

In that case, he thought, why was he hesitating about taking her to Earth, if he got the chance? No matter where he was she'd see that life was a whirlpool of action. And she'd only begun to disclose the deeps within her. Give her an education, and what a creature might evolve!

What's the matter with you, Green? he said to himself. Don't you know your own mind? Are you so capable at handling physical events but a complete muckup when it comes to psychical? Why..?

«Look out!» cried Miran, and Green threw the helm hard aport to avoid crashing into a small freighter. The captain, standing on the foredeck behind his own helmsman, leaned over the rail and shook his fist at Green and cursed. Green cursed back but after that he didn't allow himself to begin thinking about Amra until he had steered the 'roller into the 'break.

The rest of the day he was busy getting cleared with the port authorities. Fortunately he had a letter from the officer of the island-fortress. It explained why he happened to be in possession of a foreign craft and also recommended that Green be given a chance to sign up in the Estoryan 'roller-fleet if he wished. Even so, he had to tell his story so many times to an admiring and amazingly credulous audience that it was dusk before he could get free. Outside the customs building he found Grizquetr waiting for him.

«Where's your mother?» he asked.

«Oh, she knew you'd be tied up for a long time, so she went ahead and got a room in an inn. They're very hard to get during the Festival, almost impossible. But you know Mother,» said Grizquetr, winking. «She gets what she goes after, every time.»

«Yes, I'm afraid so. Well, where's this inn?»

«It's clear across town, but it's within sight of the wall that's built around the demons' skyship.»

«Wonderful! Rooms must be twice as difficult to get there as on the edge of town. How did Amra do it?»

«She gave the innkeeper three times his asking price, which was high enough. And he found a pretext to quarrel with a man who had long ago reserved a room, threw him out and gave it to us!»

«Ah? And where did she get this money?»

«She sold a ruby to a jeweler who kept shop close to the 'break. He's sort of shady, I guess, and he didn't give Mother what the ruby was worth.»

«Now, where would she get a ruby or any kind of jewel?»