Roger Zelazny: To Die In Italbar

Accordingly, goods in small demand may remain in storage for years, centuries, even. The building which Malacar had visited had remained undisturbed for almost two Earth months. Knowing this, he had expected small difficulty; that is, unless the impending deal of which he had become aware had been concluded ahead of schedule.

Considering the overworked traffic control centers, and the monitor and avoidance system programmed into his tiny, personal vessel, _The Perseus_, he did not feel that he would be taking too great a personal risk in leaving the DYNAB and entering into the territory of the Combined Leagues, in coming to Blanchen. If they found him and killed him, he would be proven incorrect. If they found him and captured him or accepted his ready surrender, they would have no choice but to send him home. But they would probably question him first, under drugs, find out what he had done and then undo it.

But if they did not find him, inside, in time ...

He chuckled, softly.

... The bird would have struck once more, halving another small worm.

His chrono gave him fifteen to twenty minutes.

_Where are you, Shind?_

_Above you, keeping watch_.

_This one, Shind, should be a good one_.

_It seemed so, from the way you described it_.

Three transports flashed above them, heading east. Malacar followed them with his eyes until they were out of sight.

_You are tired, Commander_, said Shind, reverting to a bygone formality.

_Nervous fatigue. That is all, Lieutenant. What of yourself?_

_There is some of that. My main concern, of course, is for my brother_ ...

_He is safe_.

_I know that. But he will not recall our assurances. He will grow lonely, then afraid_.

_He will come to no harm, and we will be united soon_.

There was no reply, so Malacar sniffed his vapors and waited.

Half-dozing (for how long?), he was alerted:

_She comes! Now! She comes!_

Smiling, he stretched his muscles and looked upward, knowing that for a few moments he would be unable to see that which the eyes of Shind had already detected.

It dropped like a spider and hung like a grim festival float. For a moment it hovered above him, while Shind boarded it. Another moment, and it had lowered itself farther and extended the drop-bar. Seizing it, he put his weight upon it and was taken up into the belly of _The Perseus_, passing by that mask of Medusa with the smile of the Mona Lisa which he had painted there himself. He longed for a serpent, but would settle for worms.

He spat out of the hatch just before it closed, striking the side of the building below him.

Heidel von Hymack, on the way to Italbar, watched his companions die. There had been nine of them--volunteers all--who had set out to accompany him through the rain forest of Cleech to the mountain town Italbar where he was needed; Italbar, a thousand miles distant from the space port. He had taken an air car to reach it. Forced down, he had told his story to the villagers by the River Bart, who had come upon him walking westward. Now five remained of the nine who had accompanied him against his protestations. Now one of the five was sweating, and another coughed periodically.

Heidel ran his hand through his sandy beard and continued to kick his black boots through the growth that covered what was supposed to be a trail. He perspired and his shirt stuck to him. He had warned them that it was dangerous to accompany him, he reflected. It was not as if he had not warned them.

They had heard of him, heard that he was a holy man, heard that he was on an errand of mercy.

"The last part is correct," he had told them, "but you will not score any heavenly merit points because of me."

They had laughed. No, he would need someone to protect him from the animals and show him the trail.

"Ridiculous! Point me in the right direction and I will get there," he had said. "You will be in more danger in my company than you would be out there alone."

But they had laughed again and refused to show him the way unless he permitted an escort to accompany him.

"But it can be death to be with me for too long a period of time!" he had protested.

They were adamant.

He had sighed.

"Very well, then. Give me a place where I may be completely alone and undisturbed for a day or so. It will be an expenditure of valuable time, time that should not really be lost at this point. But I must try to protect you if there is no other way that you will assist me."

They did this, and then they danced about one another and laughed at their part in a great adventure. Heidel von Hymack, the green-eyed saint from the stars, was obviously going to pray, to arrange things for their safety and the success of the trip.

Two or three days, walking, they had told him. So he had tried forcing the catharsis in order to get under way. A child lay dying in Italbar, and he had come to measure the minutes in terms of her breathing.

The Blue Lady had told him to wait, but he thought of that breathing and of the contractions of a large heart that had once been tiny. He had started out after fifteen hours and it had been a mistake.

The fevers of two of his companions had gone undetected, because of fatigue and the excessive heat of the forest. They had expired on the afternoon of the second day. He was unable to identify which of the many possible diseases it was. This was because he did not try very hard. Once a man is dead, he considered the means an academic point. In addition, his desire for urgency was such that he begrudged the others even the brief funeral ceremony and burial in which they indulged. He felt this doubly on the following morning, when two of the remaining seven did not awaken and he was compelled to witness the same rite repeated. He cursed in other languages as he helped prepare the graves.

The faceless, laughing ones--for so he had come to consider them--now possessed expressions and lacked laughter. Their ruby eyes were wide and darted at every sound. The six digits of their hands shook, writhed, snapped. Now they were beginning to understand. Now it was too late.

But two or three days ... This was the third day, and the mountains were nowhere in sight.

"Clay, where are the mountains?" he asked the coughing one. "Where is Italbar?"

Glay shrugged and pointed ahead.

The sun, a giant yellow ball, was all but invisible from their trail. Its light leaked through the starfish leaves, but in every place that it missed there was moisture or fungus. Small animals or large insects--he did not know which--darted from their path, scurried behind them, rattled the bushes and moved along the branches. The larger creatures of which he had been warned never appeared, though he heard their hisses, their whistles, their barks often in the distance; and occasionally there was the sound of something huge crashing through the forest near at hand.

He was taken by the irony of it. He had come to save a life and the effort had already cost four. "Lady, you were right," he muttered, thinking of his dream.

It was perhaps an hour later that Clay collapsed, racked with coughing, his normally olive complexion the color of the leaves about them. Heidel moved to his side, recognizing the condition. Given several days' preparation, he might have been able to save the man. He had failed when he had tried with the others because his own catharsis had not been complete. The necessary balance had been lacking. At that moment--as he had looked upon the first of the fallen--he had known that all nine of them were going to die before very long. He helped to make Clay comfortable, back against a tree trunk, his pack for a pillow, gulping water. He glanced at his chrono. Anywhere from ten minutes to an hour and a half, he guessed.