Evillia covered herself again, an effort almost undermined when she shrugged. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Most of those that didn’t get pulled off took some yanks.” She shrugged again. “It’s only skin. Does it bother you?”
“You ought to know better than that,” he said, almost angrily. “If you were feeling well-”
“If I were feeling well, I would enjoy feeling good,” she agreed. “But as it is, Radnal vez-” At last she called him by his name and the polite particle. A grimace crossed her face. “As it is, I hope you will forgive me, but-” She hurried back out into the night.
When Lofosa made her next dash to the privy, Radnal had the pills waiting for her. She gulped them almost on the dead run. She’d lost some new buttons herself. Radnal felt guilty about thinking of such things when she was in distress.
After a game of war with Moblay that was almost as sloppy as their first, Radnal went into his cubicle. He didn’t have anything to discuss with Liem or Peggol tonight; he knew what was coming. Somehow, he fell asleep anyway.
“Radnal vez.” A quiet voice jerked him from slumber. It was neither Lofosa nor Evillia bending over him promising sensual delights. Peggol vez Menk stood in the entryway.
Radnal came fully awake. “What’s gone wrong?” he demanded.
“Those two Highhead girls who don’t believe in wearing clothes,” Peggol answered.
“What about them?” Radnal asked, confused.
“They went off to the privy a while ago, and neither of them came back. My man on watch woke me before he went out to see if they were all right. They weren’t there, either.”
“Where could they have gone?” Radnal had had idiot tourists wander on their own, but never in the middle of the night. Then other possible meanings for their disappearance crossed his mind. He jumped up. “And why?”
“This also occurred to me,” Peggol said grimly. “If they don’t come back soon, it will have answered itself.”
“They can’t go far,” Radnal said. “I doubt they’ll have thought to get on donkeys. They could hardly tell one end of the beasts from the-” The tour guide stopped. If Evillia and Lofosa were other than they seemed, who could tell what they knew?
Peggol nodded. “We are thinking along the same lines.” He plucked at the tuft of hair under his mouth. “If this means what we fear, much will depend on you to track them down. You know the Bottomlands, and I do not.”
“Our best tools are the helos,” Radnal said. “When it’s light, we’ll sweep the desert floor a hundred times faster than we could on donkeyback.”
He kept talking for another few words, but Peggol didn’t hear him. He didn’t hear himself, either, not over the sudden roar from outside. They dashed for the outer door. They pushed through the Eyes and Ears and militiamen who got there first. Tourists pushed them from behind.
Everyone stared at the blazing helos.
Radnal stood in disbelief and dismay for a couple of heartbeats. Peggol vez Menk’s shout brought him to himself:
“We have to call Tarteshem right now!” Radnal spun round, shoved and elbowed by the tourists in his way, and dashed for the radiophone.
The amber ready light didn’t come on when he hit the switch. He ducked under the table to see if any connections were loose. “Hurry up!” Peggol yelled.
“The demon-cursed thing won’t come on,” Radnal yelled back. He picked up the radiophone itself. It rattled. It wasn’t supposed to. “It’s broken.”
“It’s been broken,” Peggol declared.
“How could it have been broken, with Eyes and Ears and militiamen in the common room all the time?” the tour guide said, not so much disagreeing with Peggol as voicing his bewilderment to the world.
But Peggol had an answer: “If one of those Krepalgan tarts paraded through here without any clothes — and they both ran back and forth all night — we might not have paid attention to what the other one was doing. Bang it… mmm, more likely reach under it with the right little tool… and you wouldn’t need more than five heartbeats.”
Radnal would have needed more than five heartbeats, but he wasn’t a saboteur. If Evillia and Lofosa were — He couldn’t doubt it, but it left him sick inside. They’d used him, used their bodies to lull him into thinking they were the stupid doxies they pretended to be. And it had worked… He wanted to wash himself over and over; he felt he’d never be clean again.
Liem vez Steries said, “We’d better make sure the donkeys are all right.” He trotted out the door, ran around the crackling hulks of the flying machines. The stable door was closed against cave cats. The militiaman pulled it open. Through the crackle of the flames, Radnal heard a sharp report, saw a flash of light. Liem crashed to the ground. He lay there unmoving.
Radnal and Golobol the physician sprinted out to him. The firelight told them all they needed to know. Liem would not get up again, not with those dreadful wounds.
The tour guide went into the stables. He knew something was wrong, but needed a moment to realize what. Then the quiet hit him. The donkeys were not shifting in their stalls, nipping at the straw, or making any of their other small noises.
He looked into the stall by the broken door. The donkey there lay on its side. Its flanks neither rose nor fell. Radnal ran to the next, and the next. All the donkeys were dead — except for three, which were missing. One for Evillia, the tour guide thought, one for Lofosa, and one for their supplies.
No, they weren’t fools. “I am,” he said, and ran back to the lodge.
He gave the grim news to Peggol vez Menk. “We’re in trouble, sure enough,” Peggol said, shaking his head.
“We’d be worse off, though, if the interrogation team weren’t coming in under a daytenth. We can go after them in that helo. It has its own cannon, too; if they don’t yield, goodbye. By the gods, I hope they don’t.”
“So do I.” Radnal cocked his head to one side. A grin split his face. “Isn’t that the helo now? Why is it early?”
“I don’t know,” Peggol answered. “Wait a heartbeat, maybe I do. If Tarteshem called and got no answer, they might have decided something was wrong and sent the helo straightaway.”
The racket of engine and rotors swelled. The pilot must have spotted the fires and put on full speed. Radnal hurried outside to greet the incoming Eyes and Ears. The helo’s black silhouette spread huge across the sky; as Peggol had implied, this was a military machine, not just a utility flier. It made for the glowing cones that marked the landing area.
Radnal watched it settle toward the ground. He remembered Evillia and Lofosa running around in the landing zone, laughing, giggling, and… losing buttons. He waved his arms, dashed toward the cones. “No!” he screamed.
“Wait!”
Too late. Dust rose in choking clouds as the helo touched the ground. The tour guide saw the flash under one skid, heard the report. The skid crumpled. The helo heeled over. A rotor blade dug into the ground, snapped, thrummed past Radnal’s head. Had it touched him, his head would have gone with it.
The side panel of the helo came down on the Bottomlands floor. Another sharp report — and suddenly flames were everywhere. The Eyes and Ears trapped inside the helo screamed. Radnal tried to help them, but the heat would not let him approach. The screams soon stopped. He smelled the thick odor of charring flesh. The fire burned on.
Peggol vez Menk hurried out to Radnal. “I tried to stop them,” the tour guide said brokenly.
“You came closer than I, a reproach I shall carry to my grave,” Peggol answered. “I did not see that danger, much as I should have. Some of those men were my friends.” He slammed a fist against his thigh. “What now, Radnal vez?”
Die when the waters come, was the first thought that crossed the tour guide’s mind. Mechanically, he went through the obvious: “Wait till dawn. Try to find their trail. Pack as much water on our backs as we can and go after them afoot.”