Rain fell into Palkwarkz Ztvo, curtains and streamers gray as mourning crepe, hiding the twilight. The black mountain-side blurred and melted like dark sugar; black fronds pounded and dripped.
Barch, Tick and Kerbol had gone off in the raft an hour since. The Lenape sat grouped at the far table, muttering excitedly, tapping the table with fluttery little fingers, from time to time referring to calculations on a sheet of parchment. Lkandeli Szet, the sad-eyed musician in the embroidered black and green smock, sat drawing planget vibrations from his string-box; beside him squatted the Calbyssinians, blowing windy organ notes through their fingers; Chevrr, the hatchet-faced Splang, crouched as near to the fire as possible, mending a tear in his leggings; the light made moving pools of black along his deep-marked face. Flatface lay facedown on the bench while his women massaged his back; on the ground beside him a listless dice game was in progress. Only Pedratz displayed excitement, and this because he read omens in the fall of the dice.
Komeitk Lelianr came quietly into the hall. She crossed to the entrance, wound through the S-shaped crevice, stood looking out into the rain. Darkness was absolute; there was nothing visible but the hissing vibration.
She turned away from the entrance, looked around the hall. Two big tables, benches, shadowy walls, crackling fire. The plaintive sounds of Lkandeli Szet and the Calbyssinians. The smell of flesh and cooking and smoke. She closed her eyes. Outside were the dark mountains of Palkwarkz Ztvo and the black skies, heavy as an ocean. This was her place until dying-time, unless-
But suppose Roy were killed tonight? Then she might despair indeed-even though she had never permitted herself hope. But Roy Barch worked, Roy Barch effectuated, Roy Barch brought the possibility of escape within mental grasp. With Roy Barch dead, life became stagnant, squalid, with this cave her life and her death. Her eyes grew moist; it came before her mind, suddenly large, that only the optimism of Roy Barch made Palkwarkz Ztvo bearable… A curious race, the Earthers. Young, only a few years removed from savagery, contaminated by the past, correspondingly exuberant and direct.
She considered Barch's word dynamic. Odd that he should feel the essential characteristic of his culture so clearly. She wondered briefly about Earth: had the Klau infested it yet, as they had half a dozen other worlds? And what of Lekthwa? The longing grew too great, hope she could not allow herself; it would be self-torture even to encourage Roy. Hard on Roy, she thought. Roy gave the effort, the force; he was thanked by none. Barch, in the mind of the tribe, had become equivalent to hard work, when sitting beside the fire was easier, more pleasant.
An hour passed, during which the Lenape rose in a body, trooped into Clet's old chamber and carefully laid themselves down to sleep.
Another hour went. The fire flickered and lapsed to coals. Komeitk Lelinar started listlessly toward her quarters.
Footsteps scraped and thudded outside the cave; Barch stood swaying in the entrance. Tick pushed past him, crouched by the fire. Barch's eyes swept the cave. "Where is everybody?" His voice was hoarse.
Komeitk Lelianr said, "They've gone to bed."
"Bed!" Barch's voice cracked with emotion. "They go to bed while-" He stopped.
" Roy," said Komeitk Lelianr, "what's wrong with your arm?" Barch was clutching the region of his left side in a peculiar manner.
He came forward, sank down on a bench, said breathlessly to Tick, "Wake up the tribe. There's a barge outside. We've got to bury it in Big Hole."
" Roy," said Komeitk Lelianr. "Your arm…" She felt suddenly weak in the knees.
"My arm and Kerbol," said Barch, "both back on the mudflats." She saw he was crying, tears of grief and exhaustion. Carefully she pulled the bloody rags away from the stump, and went a little dizzy. Faces peered over her shoulder, dull masks with eyes and nostrils wide, aroused to morbid excitement.
Barch said weakly, "Don't stand here; get to work. Chevrr! Where's Chevrr?"
"Here." The hatchet-faced Splang came out of the shadows.
"You know what to do… Open up the wall, slide the barge in, close it up again. Take over for me; I'm all in."
The hall was empty, except for Barch and Komeitk Lelianr. Barch lay on the bench, talking at random. "We got it all in this load-tools, welding tape, welder, deck sheeting… There were Bornghalese on the dam. We waited to grab some lights, portable lights. They came running."
"Lie still, Roy. Lie quiet."
"My left hand hurts-in the palm-and I don't have a left hand. It's mixed up in the mud with Kerbol… Oh, what a sight…"
Komeitk Lelianr tried to remember Lekthwan medicine, but the oddments and theories had no immediate bearing on a stump of an arm.
Pfluga, Flatface's second woman, too fat for work, came wheezing in to build up the fire. She peered at the arm. "And what will you do?" she asked Komeitk Lelianr.
"I don't know."
Pfluga snorted. "There's only the one way." She thrust a heavy poker into the coals.
Barch fainted, and when the smell of burning flesh reached her nostrils, Komeitk Lelianr likewise fainted.
Pfluga snorted, sniffed, stirred the fire up under a pot of hot water. There would be calls for food and hot tea before the night was over.
Barch opened his eyes, reached out to pull himself to a sitting position, fumbled ineffectually with the air. He realized that he no longer had a left arm, propped himself awkwardly with his right. He looked at his bandage. Clean gray cloth. The stump ached, not unbearably.
Komeitk Lelianr knelt beside him with a bowl of gruel. "How do you feel?"
"As well as could be expected. What's been happening?"
"You've been sleeping for two days."
"And what's been happening?"
"Three sustenators are welded in place. Today the decking is being put down. Tomorrow-well-"
"Two days." Barch rubbed his chin. "Two days… Help me up."
"You'd better sit still."
"I've got to think."
"Can't you think where you are?"
"The Bornghalese saw us up along the dam. They know a barge is stolen, they know what's aboard. When the Brain finds out…"
A sensation like a cold draught played along Komeitk Lelianr's skin. She glanced uneasily toward the crevice.
Barch asked feverishly, "Have you checked the locator index for the Brain?"
"It's not listed as the Brain," said Komeitk Lelianr uncertainly.
"I can't understand why they wait so long," fretted Barch. "It's unnatural."
Komeitk Lelianr said soothingly, "Another few days and we should be ready to leave."
"We need fuel-accr. Tick calls it."
"But you can't go out stealing again."
"I'll have to. Who else will go?"
Komeitk Lelianr had no answer. After a while Barch struggled to his feet. "I don't know why I should be so weak."
Komeitk Lelianr took his elbow, steadied him. "You've lost a lot of blood."
Barch winced, closed his eyes as if to shut out a terrible vision. He muttered, "That rascal Tick, hiding, dodging, slinking. If he had stayed where I put him-" He wiped at his forehead. "Well it's in the past; Kerbol's gone. But he was loyal. Kerbol stood by his guns, even when he died for it."
CHAPTER X
Barch made his way slowly up to Big Hole, where he leaned back against the wall, legs like wet rags. With gloomy satisfaction he listened to the sounds of activity. Barges One and Two sat side by side on the flat, with the four floodlights that had cost so much blood hanging overhead. Barge Three rested askew down at the far end, with the boxes and crates of three cargoes in between.