"Keep it down!” he hissed. “They'll hear you!"
"Hold me, damn you!"
Right. Smedley rose to his knees, took hold of Exeter's hair, and hauled him up into a sitting position. Exeter screamed. Smedley wrapped both arms around him and hung on as tightly as he could.
The fit passed. Exeter gasped and leaned his head back on Smedley's shoulder. After a moment he whispered, “Thanks! Just keep holding me."
That was all very well, but there was a band of headhunters on the way. This did not seem like the moment to explain that, though.
"What delayed you?"
"Dunno,” Exeter whispered. His eyes were closed, and he was barely breathing. “Just couldn't get it to work."
"I thought the Blighters had got you."
Exeter shook his head, and that small movement set him off again, thrashing and moaning. Damn! but he was loud. He was going to be sore for days after these cramps. He was knotted like a fishnet.
"I do believe we have run into a spot of trouble here,” Smedley said.
Footsteps on gravel! He looked around in alarm, bracing himself to face a murdering mob, but it was only Dommi, alone. He came hobbling in, clutching a bundle. He was covered with soot, streaked pink with sweat, and he had developed a severe limp.
"Tyika Kaptaan!” he cried. “I was as quickly as I could. And Tyika Kisster! It is most fortuitous to set eyes on your honor again, but at such a sad timing. I have brought the clothes, tyika, but I fear they are only the best I could find in the house of Tyika Dunlop, and many of them have singe marks upon them, and are soiled. It was the only house I was able to make entrance to."
Exeter's eyes opened wide.
"That's great, Dommi!” Smedley said hoarsely. “Could you hold Tyika Exeter for a moment for me?"
Muttering solicitously, Dommi knelt down and relieved Smedley of his burden. The exchange set off another round of cramps in Exeter, but he bit back his screams. Grateful, Smedley crawled away and rummaged through the bundle the bearer had dropped. He found typical tropical kit: shorts and shirts and sandals and long white socks. No underwear. As Dommi had said, the white cloth was scorched and soot stained. He began to dress.
Dommi was spilling out the horrible story between sobs. “It was a great madness, tyika! On Necknight, a great madness came upon us in the village. We gathered torches and all weapons which were at hand for us, and we marched in whole company upon the compound of the tyikank, singing hymns in the praise of Holy Karzon, whom our ancestors were ignorant to worship, but we know well to be the Demon Karzon and yet did not hail as such that night.” He was weeping like a fire hose. “There was terrible slaughter, tyika, and raping of the entyikank, and, oh, awful things were done. The houses were all been burned. I cannot explain this madness, tyika! There were others there, not belonging to us, not Carrots like us but strangers. They wore black, tyika, all black! I fear they were the dread reapers of whom our mother would frighten us when children we only were. It is most likely that they were the cause of our madness, Tyika Kisster, is it not? All of us Carrots are most humbly disposed toward the great tyikank who have done so much to educate us and civilize us, and we are very truly grateful for what you have done for us. It must have been the robed ones who provoked us."
The reason he had been limping was that he had a bloody great burn on his foot. He must have gone into one of those smoldering ruins to find the togs.
"There's a body just outside,” Smedley said. “The houses have been burned."
Exeter licked his lips. “Zath again,” he whispered. “It's all over now?"
"Indeed yes, tyika! We Carrots are remorseful in the most extreme about what we have done, but we could not help ourselves. I myself was one of them who did these terrible things. Now we are chagrined most deeply and wish to make amends. It is to be hoped that many of the tyikank and entyikank and domestic Carrots managed to escape out into the woods, tyika. We have been trying to count the bodies, but we also slew all the Carrots we found wearing the noble liveries you tyikank had so generously provided for us, and it is hard to tell who is among the dead and who is not there. Many escaped, I am hopeful..."
He choked down more sobs. “We even burned the library, tyika!"
Very gingerly, Exeter eased himself into a sitting position. Blood dribbled from his mouth, shockingly red against his pallor. “I am sure it was the reapers who were to blame."
"It had been reported that you would have imminent return.” Dommi whimpered. “I am most glad that your honor did not return sooner and so share in this unfortunate killing."
Exeter hugged his knees, staring blindly across at the hedge, not moving. “The house of the Tyika Murgatroyd? Was this attacked?"
"Indeed yes, tyika. No house escaped."
"The servants of Entyika Murgatroyd? Ysian, the cook?"
Dommi covered his face with his hands.
"Well?” Exeter demanded, not looking at him.
Ysian? Wasn't that the name of the girl Exeter had found hiding under a bed somewhere? How had she ever got to Olympus?
"No, tyika. She did not escape. I saw."
"How did she die?"
"Not to ask, tyika!"
Exeter's eyes were burning cold, but he was still gazing at the hedge, or through it. “Tell me, Dommi. Please tell me. I know it wasn't your fault."
"Tyika—there were awful things done. Please not to say them."
Exeter mumbled something that made no sense, but sounded vaguely like, “Oh, Vixen!"
"What? Smedley demanded.
"Nothing. Pass me those bags, will you, old chap?” Moving very deliberately, he began to dress. “Dommi, go and collect the Carrots."
The valley was narrow, less than a mile wide. From a flat floor, the sides rose precipitously, soaring almost unbroken to the incredible peaks all around. It held a river, open meadows, and many-colored woods. It would have been spectacularly beautiful two days ago.
They walked past burned ruins and trampled flower gardens, many strewn with dismembered bodies. By the time they emerged from the trees, Exeter was able to walk on his own, just steadying himself with a hand on Smedley's shoulder. They had come to tennis courts, where a band of terrified natives awaited their arrival, two score or more. Men, women, and youngsters, they all had red hair. Many carried shovels, but seemed unsure what to do with them or where to begin. They all looked ill with guilt and horror. Even Smedley, hardened campaigner from the Western Front, was utterly nauseated by what he had already seen, and that was only a small part of Olympus. Plumes of smoke were still fouling the valley.
Exeter was greeted with apprehension and relieved murmurs of, “Tyika Kisster!” Others were running in through the trees. He waited as the crowd grew, leaning on Smedley. He was still trembling and very weak. It had been a bad crossing.
"Self-fulfilling!” he murmured.
"What?"
"The Filoby Testament. It seems to be self-fulfilling. Dommi said he was expecting me back from Thovale, so the Committee must have summoned me—but I'd gone to Flanders! If Zath hadn't sent me there, I would have arrived here in time to die, you see. And if he hadn't done this, I would still be going on to New Zealand."