“You, young feller-me-lad, may be only half as big as one of those blokes. But you might come out ahead in a shoving match.”
“I’ve no desire to test that theory,” Ethan replied feelingly, “not even by friendly arm-wrestling.”
While Hunnar wasn’t in the wizard’s class when it came to rapid cogitation, even a ten-year cub could tell that this amazing vessel was in no condition to fly anyplace. The great open holes in roof and sides, the shredded acceleration couches and twisted fixture mountings; everything indicated the vessel had not set down as its designers had intended.
He also noticed the instantly recognizable scratch marks on one wall and the roof of the boat and looked at the aliens with new respect.
“You had an encounter with a Droom.”
“I’m afraid we did,” said Ethan. “Scared the crap out of us.”
Candid, too, Hunnar filed away mentally.
Of course, no true warrior would confess to fright in a battle situation—even when confronted by a Droom. If they’d been attacked by a rampaging stavanzer, now! But that was a special case. Why, even he might…
“Your vehicle,” he began innocently, “seems to have incurred some damage. I myself, since I did not witness your arrival, find it hard to believe that this much metal (keep the envy from your tones, knight!) truly descended from the sky.” Then he couldn’t keep the awe out of his voice. “Is it really a flying machine?”
“It is,” answered Ethan. “We came from a ship many hundreds of times larger than this one.” Hunnar couldn’t repress a little start at that.
“It was bringing us to this world from another, where live some of our number, and thence to others. We paused in the… above the air of your world, when a small disaster overtook us. We were forced to flee our ship in this tiny lifeboat. A second misfortune befell us and we were unable to land properly. One of our number,” he added by way of afterthought “was killed in the landing.”
“My sorrowings,” said Hunnar politely. Of course, he didn’t believe this creature’s fantastic story. Other worlds, indeed! Every child who’d studied with a Knowledgable One knew that Tran-ky-ky was the only world in this star system that could harbor life. No, they must be a stunted, nearly hairless variety of tran from the far side of the globe. Ethan’s next words tended to support this assumption.
“There is a small settlement of our people many… many satch to the west of here. That is where we were trying to land when our craft went out of control. If you could aid us in getting there, our ancestors would dance your praises through eternity.”
“How many satch?” inquired Hunnar, not impressed by the flattery.
Ethan did some furious figuring in his head, utilizing their last beacon reading and September’s guesswork.
“Eight or nine thousand, I think.”
One of the soldiers made a muffled whining sound. Hunnar glared at him. But he was hard put to keep from smiling himself. Eight or nine thousand satch. Just a quick chivan around the province and back.
“Such matters are best discussed with the Landgrave,” he replied smoothly.
“The Landgrave?”
“Yes. At the great castle of Wannome. You will meet him—and the Council—when we arrive.”
That suits us,” September said, speaking for the first time. “And I think, laddie, it’s time we all introduced ourselves.”
“Agreed,” said Hunnar. “I hight Sir Hunnar Redbeard, son of Stömsbruk Redbeard’s Son, grand-grandson of Dugai the Wild. My squires, Suaxus-dal-Jagger”—a tall, slimmer soldier stepped forward stiffly—“and Budjir Hotahg. His Landgrave’s men-at-arms and truemen,” and he proceeded to name the soldiers in turn, “Vasen Tersund, Smjör Tol, Avyeh-let-Ot-kamo, and Hivell Vuonislathi.”
“I hight Ethan Fortune. This hight Skua September, Milliken Williams…” and he went down their little group.
“Only one calling?” Hunnar said, indicating Walther.
“A criminal, uh… consigned to our care,” Ethan improvised hastily. “As such, he is entitled to but one.”
As to the du Kanes, Hunnar was mildly discouraged to learn they were father and daughter. He’d badly misjudged ages and relationship. A small point, but it piqued him. Sire and cub, then, and not mates. That was interesting.
“Despite your greeting, friend Ethan, I must be certain you are of the true warm blood and not deviants like the hoppers. Before we can think of aiding you freely, this vital thing must be settled.”
Budjir chivaned over and whispered to his leader. “What needs this, sir? They would clearly seem to be—”
“Be silent, squire. The stjorva appears as a bush, but it bites.” Taken aback, Budjir growled to himself and stepped away.
“What now?” September was asking Ethan.
“I think they want to be sure we’re of the same basic stock as they are. We’re not, of course, but I think he’s hunting for comforting similarity.” He turned to the knight “How can we prove this small thing to you, Sir Hunnar?”
The huge tran walked past Ethan and confronted Colette. She held her ground well but stared up at the carnivorous face apprehensively.
“What does this thing want?” she stuttered in Terranglo.
Ethan conversed briefly with Hunnar. September smiled.
“Our very lives are at stake,” the big man rasped. “You’d better cooperate.” In Trannish, he addressed Hunnar. “Be careful, the She’s a mite skittish.”
The knight nodded. Ethan noticed that the native’s coat fastened at the shoulders with leather ties. He spoke in Terranglo to Colette.
“I think you’ll have to open your parka, Colette. You’ll only be cold for a minute.”
“Open my… are you out of your mind? You think for one minute I’m going to let this elephantine pussycat leer at me?”
“He just wants to make certain that we’re faintly mammalian,” said Ethan easily. “You’re our best and only convincing proof. Would you rather be barbecued?”
“Now Colette,” began du Kane, “I’m not sure—”
“Very well,” said Colette evenly. She began working at the snaps on her parka. Ethan noticed that the other tran soldiers were observing the operation with something more than clinical interest.
She shook a little when Hunnar put those great clawed paws on her, but otherwise she bore the brief inspection stolidly.
“Satisfied?” September asked him the moment he’d finished. Colette had turned away and was resnapping her jacket.
“Eminently.” Privately he felt this only added validity to his theory that these people were merely thinner variants of his own stock with a much more advanced technology.
“You okay, Colette?” Ethan inquired in solicitous Terranglo.
“Yes, I think so.” She was shaking a little and didn’t even insist that he call her Miss du Kane. “I just hope these aborigines don’t carry lice or fleas.”
“What did the She say?” Hunnar asked.
“That she was flattered by your attention,” Ethan replied smoothly.
“Umph. Well, friend Ethan, it is for the Landgrave and the Council to decide if anything can be done about your request for help in reaching your home.”
“It’s not our home,” said Ethan, unconsciously avoiding the other’s neat trap. “Just a single settlement our folk have established on your world.”
“To be sure,” Hunnar murmured. “In any case, the full Council should debate it.” Actually, with the Horde only a malet or two away, any request for so much as a sword blade or scrap of spare sail was apt to be treated with kindly indifference at best. He didn’t say that, of course. Possibly these people could be of some help. There was no point in discouraging them early.