The Bones of Zora
L. Sprague de Camp & Catherine Crook de Camp
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This story is the latest in my series about the fictional planet Krishna, a satellite of the star Tau Ceti. These novels, all of which have a Z in the titles for easy recognition, take place in the 22d century. Their chronological order is: The Queen of Zamba, The Hand of Zei, The Hostage of Zir, The Prisoner of Zhamanak, The Virgin of Zesh (a novella), The Bones of Zora, and The Tower of Zanid. For reasons of publishing expediency, The Virgin of Zesh and The Tower of Zanid were published in a single volume, although the first of these takes place before The Prisoner of Zhamanak and the second after.
While the reader may pronounce the names in the story as he likes, I have the following renditions in mind: a and á as in "add" and "wad" respectively; other vowels as in Spanish. Among consonants, k and q as in "keep" and "quote" regardless of adjacent sounds; gh = French uvular r; kh = German ch;' = a glottal stop or cough; others as in English. Words ending in a consonant or a diphthong are stressed on the last syllable; others usually on the next to the last. Hence Qirib is "keer-EEB" (with a guttural k); Sadabao is "sad-ab-OW; Mishé is "MEE-sheh"; Sainian is sigh-nee-AN; Bákh is close to (Johann Sebastian) Bach. The Portuguese name of Herculeu Castanhoso is "air-koo-LEH-oo kush-TAH-nyew-soo."
I - THE CAUSEWAY
The hooves of the four ayas clattered over the flagstones of the causeway traversing the great Koloft Swamp on Krishna. The first two six-legged, homed riding animals each bore an Earthman; the other two, led by ropes, carried bundles of gear wrapped in canvas.
Mounted on the sorrel aya, the younger rider, the lean, carrot-topped Fergus Reith, peered suspiciously into the rank, rainbow-hued vegetation that crowded in from the sides. Then an arrow whistled past his head.
"Doctor Marot!" yelled Reith, sweeping out his sword. "Run like hell! Byant-hao!"
A swarm of naked, hairy, tailed Krishnans erupted from the many-colored tree trunks that lined the causeway. They brandished weapons with heads of stone, along with a few steel swords and axes obtained by trade or theft.
More arrows whistled; one struck the aya led by the other Terran. The animal bucked and jerked at its lead rope. The rider of the bay aya, a big, black-haired, middle-aging man, inclined to stoutness, braced himself in his stirrups and held on. But a Koloftu, waving a rusty steel blade, slashed the rope through.
Spurred, Reith's aya bounded forward; his led animal galloped after. Aristide Marot, slower in starting, pounded behind, gripping his saddle.
Shouting and waving, Krishnans with tails ran out on the causeway in front of Reith. His aya snorted, tossed its head, and tried to stop; but Reith savagely spurred it. As the beast plunged through the group, Reith swung at the nearest foe on his right. The hairy Koloftu skipped back with simian nimbleness; but another, ridden down, rolled screaming under the aya's hooves.
Past the interceptors, Reith craned his neck. Marot was close behind Reith's led aya; but the professor's pack animal was down on the causeway with Krishnan savages swarming over it, stabbing and hacking. Blue-green blood poured from its wounds and spread out over the flagstones.
"God damn!" yelled Reith. "There go our tent and cooking gear! Step on it, Doctor Marot!"
"Step?" gasped Marot, bouncing on his aya's back. "Oh, a colloqui—" He broke off to clutch his saddle and heel his beast to greater effort.
The Krishnans were now in pursuit at amazing speed. Even at full gallop, the ayas barely drew ahead. If one of the Terrans' animals stumbled, or if a rider fell off, the tailed ones would surely get them.
A thrown spear clattered on the causeway behind them. Arrows whistled; one struck the cantle of Marot's saddle and stuck in the wood. Marot yelped before he realized that he was unhurt. Looking back, Reith saw his companion was still with him, and the Krishnans at last were falling back.
The pair continued their gallop until their pursuers shrank to specks and faded from view. At last Reith held up a hand and gentled his lathered mount to a walk. Marot pulled up alongside his companion. He had wrenched the arrow out of his saddle and held it up.
"A point of polished chert," he said. "It will make a fine souvenir." He spoke fluent but French-accented English. "A centimeter higher, I should have been hit in the fesse and have to eat standing."
"Lucky you didn't get it in the kidneys," said Reith in tones of exasperation. "I thought I told you to wear your sword?"
With a guilty smile, Marot said: "I am sorry, Mr. Reith. I forgot; so it is packed. It would be of little use anyway. I am no hero out of Dumas père, but a peaceful scientist. I find it hard to take these medieval weapons seriously."
"Well, now you see what happens when you don't."
"What good would it have done, when that monkey-man cut the rope?"
"If you'd taken a swing at him, he'd have been too busy for rope-chopping. I hope you don't mind eating cold food and sleeping under the stars for the next few days. Not to mention losing the stuff I packed to turn us into Krishnans."
Marot sighed. "All right, I was wrong. Now are you happy? As for cold food, I have put up with hardships in the field before. At least, I still have my longevity capsules."
The longevity capsules or "LPs" to which Marot referred were universally used by human beings to retard aging. By consistently taking them from early adulthood on, the human life span could be approximately tripled. Hence, while Reith had lived the equivalent of more than forty Terran years, in appearance and physical condition he was not over thirty. Marot continued:
"Why do the tailed ones attack us without provocation?"
"Because the tailless Krishnans raid them for slaves, so to them the only good tailless person is a dead one."
"We can replace our lost equipment in Mishé. no?"
"I hope so," said Reith. "It'll help that I'm on good terms with the Knights of Qarar. They want me to bring my next gaggle of tourists there, so the Republic of Mikardand can tax their shopkeepers' profits. But getting more gear will take time."
Hours later, Reith pointed. 'There's some high ground for our camp. It'll keep us out of the swamp and away from the leeches."
They led their ay as to the hillock, pushing through dense, fernlike green-and-scarlet vegetation, and tethered their mounts. Reith gathered sticks and started a fire with his wooden piston firelighter. Marot said:
"I should think that the authorities would at least let us bring matches. This seems like carrying the technological blockade to absurdity. That Scottish engineer who gave us copies of his maps—what was his name? Strashan?"
"Kenneth Strachan." Reith rhymed the surname with the city of Aachen. "Some say Stracken; some say Strawn; but Ken, who's a kind of professional Scotsman, gives it the full guttural. What about him?"
"He lectured me on the iniquity of the technological blockade. He would like to abolish it."
"I know. To his way of thinking, if the Krishnans develop nuclear bombs and blow up their planet, that's their worry. But the official line is stricter than ever since the Gorchakov scandal."
"Was that the case of the paranoid security officer who got a female missionary drunk and, when she woke up, told her she was his wife? And pursued her when she fled to that nature cult on an island?"