Dominic got off. Kemul picked up the bravo. “No, wait,” protested Dominic, “he’s still alive-” Kemul threw Pradjung into the canal. “Oh, well,” said Dominic and gunned the engine.
Headlights strengthened from behind, through the rain. “Kemul thinks Sumu had you followed,” said the mugger. “It would make sense. Now they want to catch up with us and find why your lights went out. Shall we fight?”
“Can you lift a chest with a hundred thousand silvers?” asked Captain Sir Dominic Flandry.
Kemul whistled. Then: “Yes, Kemul can carry it aways.”
“Good. We needn’t fight.”
Flandry steered close to the left pier. As they went by a ladder, Kemul stepped off with the chest under one arm. Flandry revved the motor and went over the side. Treading water in the dark, he watched the second boat pursue his own out of sight.
Half an hour later, he stood in Luang’s quarters above the Tavern Called Swampman’s Ease and gestured at the open chest. “A hundred thousand,” he said grandly. “Plus a good bit extra I made gambling. And a firearm, which I understand is hard for commoners to come by.” It was thrust firmly into his own belt.
The girl lit a cigarette. “Well,” she said, “the usual black market price for a pill is two thousand.” She put a vial on the table. “Here are ten capsules. You have credit with me for forty more.”
The lamp in the hooded god’s hands threw soft coppery light across her. She wore a little paint on the amber skin, which was not her custom, luminous blue outlining eyes and breasts. There was a red blossom in her hair. For all its coolness, he thought her voice was not entirely level.
“When the boy brought us your note,” said Kemul, “it seemed foolishness to wait in ambush where you desired. Even though we were surprised to hear from you at all. When you first left us to win your fortune, Kemul thought you a dead man already.”
“You have more than common luck, I think.” Luang frowned at her cigarette, avoiding Flandry’s look. “In the past two or three days, there have been public announcements in the name of Nias Warouw. A reward is offered for you dead and a bigger one for you alive. The loudspeaker boats have not yet gotten as far as Sumu’s district. It’s plain to see, nobody who heard the criers had chanced to spy you, or knew you were with him. But he must soon have realized.”
“I made the swindle move as fast as possible,” Flandry said. The air was so hot and damp that he hoped they wouldn’t notice the sweat on him was suddenly rather cold. “I’m an experienced con man. It’s half my profession, one way or another. To be sure, I was a bit nervous about pulling a Spanish Prisoner here. You must have some home-grown version. But with refinements-” He broke off. They didn’t follow his words, full of Anglic phrases as was necessary. “What do I owe you for my shirt and watch and wallet? It was good of you to give them back to me for a stake.”
“Nothing,” said Kemul. “They were useless to us, as Luang explained.”
The girl bit her lip. “I hated for you to go out like that-all alone-” She put the cigarette to her mouth and inhaled so hard that her cheeks filled with shadow. Abruptly and roughly: “You are very clever, Terra man. I never had allies, except Kemul. They always betray you. But I think you could be a profitable associate.”
“Thanks,” said Flandry.
“One question yet. I forgot to ask you before. You knew Biocontrol makes all the antitoxin. What gave you the idea you could get any from us?”
Flandry yawned. He felt tired after all the strain and watchfulness. It was good to lounge back on the bed and look up at Luang, where she paced back and forth. “I felt confident someone would have some extras for sale,” he answered. “Human cussedness is bound to find ways, when anything as valuable as this drug is to be had. For instance, armed raids on dispensaries, by masked men. Or the hijacking of shipments. Not often, I suppose, but it must happen occasionally. Or… well, there must be hunters, sailors, prospectors, and so on… men who have legitimate reasons for not coming near a dispensary every thirty days, and are allowed an advance supply of antitoxin. Once in a while they will be murdered, or robbed, or will die naturally and be stripped. Or simple corruption: a local dispenser juggles his records and peddles a few extra pills. Or he is bribed or blackmailed into doing it.”
Luang nodded. “Yes,” she said, “you are wise in such matters.” With a sudden, odd defiance: “I get some capsules myself, now and then, from a certain dispenser. He is a young man.”
Flandry chuckled. “I’m sure he gets more than value in return.”
She stubbed out her cigarette with a savage gesture. Kemul rose, stretching. “Time for Kemul’s nap,” he said. “Around sunrise we can talk of what’s to be done. The Captain is wily, Luang, but Kemul thinks best he be gotten out of Kompong Timur and used elsewhere for a time. Till Warouw and Sumu forget him.”
Her nod was curt. “Yes. We will talk about it tomorrow.”
“Good rest, Luang,” said Kemul. “Are you coming, Captain? Kemul has an extra bed.”
“Good rest, Kemul,” said Luang.
The giant stared at her.
“Good rest,” she repeated.
Kemul turned to the door. Flandry couldn’t see his face; not that Flandry particularly cared to, just then. “Good rest,” said Kemul, barely audible, and went out.
Someone laughed like a raucous bird, down in the joyhouse. But the rain was louder, filling all the night with a dark rushing. Luang did not smile at Flandry. Her mouth held a bitterness he did not quite understand, and she switched off the light as if it were an enemy.
VIII
Two thousand kilometers north of Kompong Timur, a mountain range heaved itself skyward. It was dominated by Gunung Utara, which was also a city.
The morning after he arrived, Flandry stepped out on the ledge fronting his hostel. Behind him, a tunnel ran into black basalt, looping and twisting and branching, for it was an ancient fumarole. Rooms had been excavated along that corridor; airblowers and fluorescent tubes had been installed; plastisurfacing and tapestries softened bare rock. Most of the city was built into such natural burrows, supplemented with artificial caves-up and down the slopes of Gunung Utara.
Flandry could just see the cliff behind him, and about ten meters downward where the ledge tumbled below his feet. Otherwise his world was thick white mist. It distorted sounds; he heard machines and voices as if from far away and from impossible directions. The air was thin and cool, his breath smoked. He shivered and drew tighter about him the hooded cloak which local people added to kilt, stockings, and shirt. After all, they lived a good 2,500 meters above sea level.
There was a rumbling underfoot, deeper than any engine, and the ground quivered a little. Gunung Utara dreamed.
Flandry lit an atrocious native cigarette. Luang had promptly sold all his Terran supply. Presently he would go look for some breakfast. Food in the lowlands had been heavy on rice and fish, but Luang said meat was cheaper in the mountains. Bacon and eggs? No, that would be too much to hope for. Flandry sighed.
It had been a pleasant trip here, though. Extremely pleasant, on admirably frequent occasions. The girl had not merely sent him off to hide, but come along herself, with Kemul at heel. They had been ferried across the lake at night by someone who would keep his mouth shut. At the depot on the far side, she engaged a private cabin on one of the motorized rafts which plied the Ukong River. He stayed inside that, and she spent most of her time with him, while the raft chugged them slowly northeast to Muarabeliti. (Kemul slept outside the door, and said little in waking hours, spending most of his time with a marijuana pipe.) There they could have gotten an airliner, but since that was only for the wealthy, it seemed safer to go by monorail. Not that they jammed themselves into a thirdclass car like ordinary peasants; they got a compartment, suitable conveyance for petty bourgeoisie. Across a continent of jungle, plantation, and drowned lowland, Flandry had once more paid less attention to the scenery than a dutiful tourist should. And now they were holed up in Gunung Utara until the heat went off, with Biocontrol certain that Flandry must be dead.