The Bishop was unconscious and breathing heavily. There was nothing more I could do except sit and wait. "Your sword," Dreng said, holding it out to me.
"You take care of it for awhile. If you think you are up to it?" He lowered his eyes and trembled again. "I want to be a fighter, but I am so afraid. I could not move to help you." "But you did-finally. Remember that. There isn't a person alive who has not been afraid at one time or another. It is only the brave man who can feel fear and still go forward. " "A noble thought, young man," the deep voice said. "And one that you should always remember." The Bishop had regained consciousness and was smiling a wan smile.
"Now, Jim, as I was saying before they turned on their little machine, I was certain that you would be here this morning. You were free-and I knew that you would not leave me alone in that wicked place. There was an immense hue and cry when you escaped, with abundant to-ing and fro-ing until the gate was closed for the night. It was obvious that it would be impossible for you to come then. But with dawn the gate would be opened and I had not the slightest doubt that you were sure to be close by, trying to find a way to get to me. Simple logic. So I simplified the equation by coming to you." "Very simple! You almost got yourself killed." "But I didn't. And we are both safely away from them. Plus I see that you have managed to enlist an ally, A good day's work. Now the important question. What do we do next?" What indeed?
Chapter 23
"As to what we do next-the answer is obvious," I said. "We stay here until the excitement has died down. Which should happen fairly quickly since there is not much market value in a dead slave." "But I feel remarkably healthy." "You have forgotten that the paincuff will kill if used continuously. So, when our way is clear we head for the nearest habitation and dress your wound. " "It is bloody, but can't be more than a scratch." "Sepsis and infection. We take care of the cut first." I turned to Dreng. "Any farmers you know who live close to this place?" "No, but the widow Apfeltree is just over the hill, past the dead tree, through the end of the swamp..." "Great. Show us the way, don't tell." I turned back to The Bishop. "And after we fix your back, then what?" "After that, Jim, we join the army. Since you are now a mercenary, that is the proper thing to do. An army will be based in a keep, and there will be a locked room in that keep where all the groats are stored. While you practice your military profession I shall, as the expression goes, case the joint. In order to further this noble work of ours I have one particular army in mind for you. The one that serves theCampo Dimonte." "Not Capo Dimontel" Dreng wailed, clutching his hair with both hands. "He is evil beyond measure, eats a child for breakfast every day, has all of his furniture upholstered in human skin, drinks from the skull of his first wfe, .." "Enough," The Bishop ordered, and Dreng was stilled.
162 "It is obvious that he does not have a good press here in the Capote of Doccia. That is because he is the sworn enemy of Capo Doccia and goes to war against him periodically. I am sure that he is no worse-or better-than any other capo. But he does have one advantage. He is our enemy's enemy. " "So hopefully our friend. Right. I owe old Doccia one and I look forward to paying it back. " "You should not bear grudges, Jim. It dulls the vision and interferes with your career. Which should now be grabbing groats not wreaking vengeance. " I nodded agreement. "Of course. But while you are planning the heist there is no reason why I can't enjoy a bit of revenge. " I could see that he disapproved of my emotions-but I could not attain his Olympian detachment. A weakness of youth, perhaps. I changed the subject. "After we empty the treasury, then what?" "We find out how the locals are contacting the ofiplanet smugglers, like the Venians. With the obvious aim of leaving this backward and deadly world as soon as possible. In order to do that we may have to get religion. " He chuckled at my shocked expression. "Like you, my boy, I am a Scientific Humanist and feel no need for the aid of the supernatural. But here on Spiovente what technology there is seems to be in the hands of an order called the Black Monks..." "No, stay away!" Dreng wailed; he was certainly a source of bad news. "They know Things that Drive Men Mad. From their workshops all forms of unnatural devices pour forth. Machines that scream and grunt, that talk through the skies, the paincuffs as well. Avoid them, master, I beg of you!" "What our young friend has decried is true," The Bishop said. "Minus the fear of the unknown, of course. Through some process that is not relevant now all of technology on this world became concentrated in the hands of this order, the Black Monks. I have no idea what their religious affiliations are-if any-but they do supply and repair the machines that we have seen. This gives them a certain protection, since if one capo were to attack them the others would rush to their defense to insure their continued access to the metallic fruits of technology. It is to them that we may have to turn for salvation and exodus." "I second the motion and it is carried by acclamation: Join the army, whip as many groats as we can, contact the smugglers-and buy our way out." Dreng gaped at all the long words, drooling a bit at the same time. He obviously followed little of what we discussed. Action was more his style. He made a silent exit on a scouting trip and an even more slithery return. No one was about, our way was clear. The Bishop could walk now, with a little aid from us, and the widow's house was not too distant. Even withDreng's reassurances she was trembling with fear when she admitted us to her hovel.
"Guns and swords. Murder and death. I'm doomed, doomed. " Despite her muttering, punctuated by the smacking of her toothless gums, she followed my instructions and put a pot of water over the fire. I cut a strip of cloth from my blanket, boiled it clean, then used it to wash The Bishop's wound. It was shallow but deep. The widow was persuaded to part with some of her store of moonshine and The Bishop shuddered, but did not cry out, when I poured it into the open cut. Hoping the alcohol content was high enough to act as an antiseptic. I used more boiled blanket as a bandage-which was about all that I could do.
"Excellent, James, excellent," he said, gingerly pulling his sliced jacket over his shoulders. "Your years in the Boy Sprouts were obviously not wasted. Now let us thank the good widow and leave since it is obvious that she is upset by our presence." Leave we did, strolling the open, rut-filled road, every footstep taking us farther away from Capo Doccia. Dreng was a good provider, drifting off into orchards for fruit, or rooting out edible tubers from the fields we passed, even digging them up under the noses of the rightful owners. Who only touched their forelocks at the sight of my weapons. It is a nasty world that only respects bullies. For the first time I began to appreciate the better qualities of the League worlds.
It was late afternoon when the walls of the keep loomed up before us. This place had a little more style than Doccias, or at least it looked that way from a distance, because it was situated on an island in a lake. A causeway and drawbridge connected it to the mainland. Dreng was shaking with fear again and was more than happy to stay on the shore with The Bishop while I braved the dangers of the keep. I strode militarily along the stone causeway, then stamped over the bridge. The two guards eyed me with open suspicion.
"Good morn, brothers," I called out cheerfully, gun on shoulder, sword in hand, gut in and chest out. "Is this the establishment of the Capo Dimonte, known the length and breadth of the land for his charm and strength of arm?" "Who wants to know?" "I do. An armed and powerful soldier who wishes to enlist in his noble service." "Your choice, brother, your choice," he said with obvious gloom. "Through the gate, across the courtyard, third door on your right, ask for Sire Srank." He leaned close and whispered. "For three groats I'll give you a tip." "Done." "So pay." "Shortly. I'm a little skint right now." "You must be-if you want to hire out to this lot. All right, five then, in five days." I nodded agreement. "He'll offer you very little, but don't settle for less than two groats a day." "Thanks for the credit. Ill get back to you." I swaggered through the gate and found the right door. It was open to admit the last light, and a fat man with a bald head was scratching away at some papers. He looked up when my shadow fell across the table.