Instead of stopping, White's aya wheeled and headed back towards the other end of the field. Reith expected to see White hurled from the saddle like a flung slingstone by the centrifugal force of the turn. But White, with the strength of terror, retained a death grip on his saddle.
The turn allowed Reith and Alicia to gain on the runaway; but the sound of the sextuple hoofbeats behind it spurred the uncontrolled animal to go fester than ever. They reached the end of the field with Reith and Alicia a length behind White, and the Dasht a like distance behind them.
Between the drill field and the city wall, a kilometer away, lay a sprawling suburb of narrow streets and crowded markets. "If—he gets into that tangle, he'll— kill somebody!" gasped Reith.
"Can you—bulldog an aya?" asked Alicia.
"Don't—know; never—tried. You stay back!"
White's aya thundered into the main road, heading for a massive cart drawn by a pair of shaihans.
"Jack!" yelled Reith. "Say 'ast! That's 'stop.' "
White shouted something, but amid the thunder of hooves and the cries of alarmed Krishnans scrambling out of the way, Reith could not tell what was said. Just as a head-on collision with the cart seemed inevitable, White's aya wheeled into a narrower street, where displays of divers markets spilled out into the street in a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens.
The turn allowed Reith to gain on the runaway. With a fierce lack he forced his aya to bound forward until it was abreast of White's, although upset bins of fruits and vegetables and the yells of outraged proprietors told him that he lacked proper space for the maneuver. Then he saw that Alicia had drawn abreast of White on the left. She was leaning forward in the saddle and extending an arm towards the aya's nearer horn.
"Back, Lish!" screamed Reith. "You'll be killed!"
Instead of obeying, Alicia hurled herself out of the saddle and caught the horn. Instead of stopping, the aya plunged on, dragging Alicia's boots through the mud.
A second later, Reith in turn leaned over, gripped the beast's right horn, and swung himself out of his saddle. He came down with his feet braced, his heels plowing through the mud. The combined pull brought the aya to a sudden halt. White pitched over its head, turned a half-somersault, and landed on his back in a large tub of plumlike Krishnan fruit.
Behind them, Dasht Gilan shouted orders from his saddle. In response, the bodyguard dismounted and pushed past White's aya, still held by Reith and Alicia, and bent over the fallen man.
"My Altitude greatly regrets your accident!" cried Gilan. "Are you hurt?"
White, covered with purple ilá juice, sat up and rubbed a shoulder. "Nothing seems to be broken," he mumbled.
The bodyguard extended a hand and hauled White to his feet in the remains of the shattered bin. Around them, the clustering Krishnans had begun to cry: "The alien hath ruined my stock!" "I demand repayment!" "Justice, my lord! I seek justice!"
Dasht Gilan barked: "Later, goodmen! Who hath a cloth?"
At last someone produced a towel, with which the guard solicitously wiped the smashed fruit from White's transmundane.
Ordway appeared, still mounted and accompanied by two grooms. "I say, Jack, you are a sight! What the devil happened?"
Gilan turned to Reith and Alicia. "Are you all right? Any damages?"
"None, except for my poor scuffed boots," replied Alicia.
"Any harm done to you or your garments shall be remedied." He addressed a groom. "The Terran gentleman hath need of a strong drink!"
The attendant produced a flask. With shaking hand, White took a swig, coughed, and drank some more.
"Now," proclaimed the Dasht, "back into the saddle with you! It is the only way to avoid a fear of riding." As White looked at his aya with an expression of horror, Gilan added: "Not that fractious beast, but—let me see ah, Kul there. The name means an herb. She's so well-mannered, she could walk on eggs without cracking a shell."
At a signal from the Dasht, the groom riding the mount in question got down and turned the animal over to White. The Dasht led the party at a stately walk to the main street and thence to the drill field. The errant aya, with its sides heaving and held by two stalwart grooms, brought up the rear.
On the field, the Dasht gathered his minions around him, speaking sternly. "The Terran's mount looked strangely familiar. Could it be the one we called Flighty?"
"Aye, my lord," mumbled a groom. "The horsemaster commanded us to give Flighty to one of the Terrans— either one."
"He said he had received a message from Your Lordship," added another groom with a worried air. "We thought ye wished to jest at the expense of the alien beings."
"This mystery shall be unraveled," growled Gilan, "if need be, with rack and pincers." The grooms paled beneath their greenish-tan complexions. Gilan faced the Terrans. "Some villain has tried to play a more than cruel joke upon you, my friends. When I find him, he shall regret his perverted humor."
"I wonder who did it and why?" mused Reith.
The Dasht gave the Krishnan version of a shrug. "Perhaps it was a spy of the Kamoran of Qaath. Those ferocious barbarians are always up to something. Or it could be a follower of your fellow Terran, the cult leader Shel—Shneg—he of the Society for Cultural Preservation."
"Schlegel?" murmured Reith.
"That is he. I hear that he aims to sever all communication between my world and yours. He holds that, with each contact, we Krishnans borrow the worst ideas and manners—the vices—of your culture. In this he may not be altogether wrong. But, knowing cultural exchanges to be inevitable, I deem it better to control these borrowings, encouraging those of benefit to us and discouraging the others.
"But enough of lecturing. Mr. White, when you return to your inn, my servants will carry forth your stained garments for washing and repair. You have spares to wear meanwhile, I trust? Mr. Ordway, once I have ascertained the extent of my people's losses, you will, without doubt, make good the damage to their stalls and merchandise?"
"Surely, surely," mumbled Ordway, looking glum.
"And now," barked Gilan, "you must stay to enjoy the parade and concert. Choice seats have been reserved for you. Farewell!"
With a genial wave, the Dasht galloped off, followed by his troop of attendants.
The Terrans straggled towards the reserved seats, from which they watched with disaffected eyes as the band marched up and burst into a cacophony of tunes, mostly crudely-rendered Terran marches. After suffering through their version of Ganne's Marche Lorraine, the empurpled White whispered to Reith: "I've got to get out of here; I've been scared cross-eyed and battered to mush. Watching a parade in this mucked-up suit would finish me off for sure!"
Ordway added his plea to that of the dejected location manager. "I need some rest, too. After this morning's workout, I ache all over."
"Let's all go," said Alicia. "His Pomposity is nowhere in sight, and the locals will fill up our chairs."
As the band struck up the march from Victor Herbert's Babes in Toyland, the Terrans scuttled away.
The journey to Castle Shaght was made the following day on aya back, because the road was too narrow and overgrown for carriages. The Dasht did not accompany them, but sent a score of attendants to minister to their comfort and safety. Ordway chaffed: "Fergus, are you plotting to kill Jack and me by running us ragged, to leave you a clear field with Alicia?"
Reith grinned. "I hadn't thought of that. Fear not; I'll take good care of you, at least till I'm paid off."