Were the barges simply traps of some sort, designed to capture the naive and footloose? Then they were remarkably ineffective, for such elaborate traps — as far as he could tell, the barges had caught only eight vagabonds, and five of those by the merest chance. Still, that explanation seemed most logical to him.
It occurred to him that he could test that theory by seeing if the barge would allow him to jump off. Not tonight — in the dark he’d find it difficult to avoid splattering himself on a tree trunk. Perhaps in the morning he could try.
Of course, if they came upon any sort of civilization, they would all debark, if that proved possible.
“Are you sleepy?” Nisa asked.
“A little,” he said, surprised to find it true.
“Then tonight, you sleep first, and I’ll watch.”
He turned and pressed his cheek against her elegant hip. “Yes,” he said.
To his vast surprise, he did sleep, deeply, lying on the bench with his head pillowed in Nisa’s lap.
He may even have dreamed, though from long habit, he immediately suppressed the impulse to remember his dream when Nisa shook him awake. He surged from sleep and sat up, shaking his head. Had it been a pleasant dream, for once? He would never know.
The light was gray and cold and the air had a fragile daybreak chill in it. Ruiz was astonished to find the night gone; he had never meant to sleep so long. He stood up, looked out at the passing forest.
Nisa shifted awkwardly, as though her muscles were sore. “I wanted to let you sleep a bit longer,” she said. “But I heard Dolmaero call.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing serious, I’d guess — he didn’t sound alarmed. Perhaps it’s breakfast.” She stretched, then rubbed her back and winced.
He touched her cheek. “You should have moved my head. You made a soft bed, but you shouldn’t have made yourself stiff for my comfort.”
She laughed and pushed his hand away playfully. “You made yourself stiff for my comfort,” she said. “I want to do what I can. How many things have you done for me? I’ve lost count. But what have I done for you?”
“Much,” he said, and meant it.
It was indeed breakfast — another tray sat on the deck. It held a plate heaped with still-hot muffins, a white bowl filled with pale blue hard-boiled eggs, jars of purple jelly and honey, a huge jug of some frothy pink juice.
Dolmaero stood beside it, looking vaguely triumphant. Molnekh looked ravenous.
“One mystery is solved,” announced Dolmaero.
“Oh?” said Ruiz.
Dolmaero pointed up at the statue’s belly. “It came from there. The metal opened, the tray descended — hung from a thin rod. The tray reached the deck, the rod withdrew, the metal was as before.”
“‘How’ is explained, but not ‘why,’” Molnekh pointed out. “But I’m not complaining. Who’d have thought such things could happen? For desperate fugitives, we’re doing well.”
“Possibly,” said Ruiz. “In any case, we might as well eat before the muffins get cold.” He picked up the tray. “Is Flomel well secured?”
“Of course,” answered Molnekh in injured tones. “I carry out your instructions meticulously.”
“In that case, let’s go to the upper deck, where the view is better, and we won’t have to listen to Flomel’s whining,” Ruiz said.
Corean cursed, and kicked at the remnants of Kroel’s head, an ill-considered action that left a stain on her armored foot and prompted a longer burst of invective. The cargo hold of her damaged airboat stank of death and burned insulation — and of the Mocrassar, who stood by the lock in a watchful posture.
Marmo floated forward on his repaired chassis and examined the hole in the engine compartment wall. “Vast luck,” he muttered darkly. “Have you considered the possibility that he’s just too lucky.”
“None of your foolish pirate superstitions, Marmo.” Corean turned a wrathful gaze on Marmo. “Instead, you might start formulating useful advice — since that’s what I pay you for.”
“Indeed.” But he said no more then.
She went to the lock and signaled to Fensh to bring the repair mech from the survey sled. She ordered the Moc to remove Kroel’s remains. As the great insectoid carried the body out, she shook her head violently. “He’s done me a great harm financially. Now the phoenix troupe is broken, and who knows if the boat is repairable.”
“On the other hand,” Marmo said, “you were going to smash the boat into the cliff, until he prevented you.”
She looked at Marmo thoughtfully, eyes cold. “Good of you to remind me, Marmo. I’m certainly glad I scraped you off the veldt, so that you could assist me in this manner.”
“Sorry,” he said in a subdued voice.
She nodded. “I’m going to give Fensh an hour to make an assessment. If he can repair the boat, I’ll leave him here with his brother. He can bring the boat when it’s ready; we may need the armament.”
“All Ruiz Aw has is the splinter gun and a few pigstickers.”
“Nevertheless. Now, since he may have contrived booby traps, you will explore the remainder of the boat. When it’s safe, call me.”
By the time they’d eaten their fill, the light was strong, and it had become apparent that the forest was changing. They saw occasional brushy clearings, and the trees were of more recent growth, as though the forest had been logged in the last hundred years or so.
“Look,” said Nisa. “Is it a road?”
“So it seems.” Ruiz studied the opening in the trees as it passed. A small landing abutted the canal. It lacked the ornamental features of the landing from which they had boarded the barge, but it was built of the same shiny pink granite. “Perhaps we should think about leaving — the road looks recently used. Maybe we’re near some town where we can get better transport.”
“Maybe not,” said Molnekh, rubbing his belly. “And I have no objection to the accommodations.”
“Oh?” Ruiz lifted his eyebrow. “Did you know that it’s the custom on many worlds to provide a condemned criminal with a fine meal just before his execution?”
“It goes differently on Pharaoh,” Molnekh said, but he looked shaken.
“Besides,” Ruiz continued. “Corean will understand that we have embarked on this voyage. She’ll catch up with us soon; before noon, if she’s clever enough to overfly the canal before she sets her sniffers on us.”
“She is not stupid,” said Dolmaero glumly.
“No.”
Ruiz considered that it might be time to see if disembarkation was possible. He rose, leaned over the rail, and looked ahead, hoping to see a fairly clear area for his experiment.
He was startled to see another landing drawing near, and even more startled to see a large group of people standing on the quayside. He pulled his head back, turned to tell the others, and felt the barge slow.
“What is it?” asked Dolmaero.
“I don’t know.” Ruiz had no idea what to do. Until they were threatened, it might be a bad idea to show hostility. “We’ll have to wait and see. I suppose.”
By now the others had seen the landing, and there were no more questions.
They slowed to a drift. The barge drew even with the landing and they looked down at the crowd. It seemed to be divided between a large number of old people shrouded in what appeared to be black mourning cloaks, and a smaller group of almost-naked youngsters wearing colorful wisps of silk. The old folks wore grim faces; the young ones seemed to be celebrating some happy event — but no one looked up at Ruiz.
The focus of the sorrow or felicitations appeared to be a young couple who stood together on the bank. They were beautiful, in an unformed youthful way; they were obviously the handsomest couple in the festive portion of the gathering. They wore identical expressions of resolute anticipation — though Ruiz thought he detected a good deal of anxiety beneath that surface. Otherwise, they were naked, except for beauty paint and hair ribbons.