"Aye; the fellow at the door when the fight begins."
Reith surmised that Schlegel would post one of his band inside, to guard the captives and to kill them if need be. Therefore he had asked the hunter, as the best arbalester, to hold his shot until a Preservationist appeared in the doorway of the hut, and then shoot to kill. Reith also gambled that, orders or no orders, the Krishnan in question would come to the door to see what the noise outside betokened.
As they wriggled forward on bent elbows, pushing their crossbows ahead of them, the Preservationists' camp came into full view. Centered on a small clearing, they saw a dilapidated hut with its roof half fallen in. About a dozen persons, some armed, squatted or stood around a small fire, eating. The huge Schlegel, their leader, stood facing the oncomers.
Ignoring a many-legged arthropod that had crawled inside his shirt, Reith crept forward a few meters more. When he had a clear view of the site through the crowding, many-colored vegetation, he eased his crossbow forward into position, sighted on Schlegel's midriff, and in a low but clear voice said: "Shoot!"
Six crossbows went off with loud, flat snaps, as if someone had knifed all the strings of a musical instrument with one slash. The quarrels thrummed and thumped home. Reith enjoyed a moment's ferocity as Schlegel staggered back; dismay replaced blood lust as, with a roar, the man jerked the bolt out of his midriff and threw it away. Then Shedan shot in his turn.
"Up and at 'em!" Reith shouted. Dropping his crossbow, he ran towards the clearing, drawing as he came. He faintly heard the tramplings and voices of his squad, half drowned by the shouts and clatter of the foe.
Although his attention was fixed on Schlegel, Reith was peripherally aware of one Krishnan kidnapper writhing on the ground, another lying in contorted quiet, and a third turning to flee. By the time Reith reached the clearing, Schlegel had his sword in hand. Reith bored in; but Schlegel beat off his lunge. Save for a timely parry, the cultist would have taken Reith's head off Midi a fast return cut.
As they lunged, hacked, and parried, Reith half-heard other clashes around him. Someone screamed as a blade thrust home. Now Schlegel's left hand, instead of being extended in a fencing position, was pressed against his belly. Blood seeped out between his fingers, but the wound did not slow the man's competent sword-play. The belt buckle and the mailshirt worn under Schlegel's clothes had limited the penetration of Reith's crossbow bolt; so that the wound, while serious, was not immediately disabling.
Sweating, Reith lunged again but was beaten back. Schlegel launched a running attack, whirling his blade in a tight circle to throw Reith's sword out of line. The more agile of the two, Reith dodged to one side as Schlegel pounded past. He made a solid thrust into Schlegel's sword arm; his blade pierced the biceps and came out the other side.
Schlegel wrenched his arm free, tearing out the sword and enlarging the wound. As he turned to glare defiance at Reith, the sword fell from his lax fingers. When Reith's companions converged on the pair, blades ready, all of Schlegel's Krishnans were either down or running away.
Reith placed his point at the base of Schlegel's neck, above the edge of the mail shirt. Schlegel sank to one knee, pressing his left hand to his abdominal wound. Apprehension furrowed his forehead.
"Mercy!" cried Schlegel. "I am helpless, wounded, disarmed. You cannot kill a man in my condition; it would dishonorable be!"
"Randal," ordered Reith, "see if the girls are in the cabin."
Fairweather grasped the ankle of the Krishnan lying dead in the doorway and dragged the body aside. Then he entered the hut and presently came out with Cassie and Alicia, both rubbing wrists raw from rope bindings.
Reith called, "Are you hurt, Lish?"
"Nothing serious, darling."
"And you, Cassie? Did this zeft mistreat either of you? Aside from the kidnapping, that is."
"No, except for tying us up," said Alicia.
"You're sure? He didn't do anything to you?"
"No, Fergus; though he promised us some interesting experiences if he didn't get the movie materials."
"What shall I do with him?"
"Kill him!" said Alicia, always the ruthless realist.
"You know what happened when you let Warren Foltz go."
"Mercy!" wailed Schlegel. "I have not injured your women or inflicted indignities on them! I acted only for the common welfare of Krishna—for the preservation of its collective soul—for the integrity of its culture."
"I'll be merciful," said Reith grimly. As Schlegel broke into a feeble smile, he added: "I mean, you won't be tortured, even though you laid hands on my wife."
With that, Reith thrust his sword into Schlegel's neck until the point struck the neck vertebrae. He twisted the blade and withdrew it. With a choking sound, Schlegel sank down into a sitting position. Like a massive tree, he slowly toppled over, to lie with blood spurting from both mouth and neck.
Satisfying himself that his foe was dead, Reith wiped his blade and sighed. Neither so ruthless nor so realistic as Alicia, he never found the taking of life something to do lightly. He looked around.
Besides Schlegel, five of his band lay dead. Valdez sat on the ground, holding a wounded arm and muttering a stream of Spanish obscenities. Then Reith spied Yinkham, sprawled with a sword through his body. "What happened here?"
Fairweather explained. "The little Krishnan, your new secretary, ran up to this guy, who was just about to let you have it from behind. With that little pistol thing, he shot the fellow in the ribs from about a meter's distance. The Krishnan, before he collapsed, whirled around and ran Yinkham through. So both ended up dead."
"Damn," muttered Reith. "The little guy might have made a first-class secretary, if he hadn't decided to play the hero. He was a better man than a lot of Terrans. Girls, will you bandage Ernesto before he bleeds to death?"
In Alicia's room at the inn, Alicia took off her shirt and examined her shapely torso in the mirror. "A couple of bruises," she said, "but nothing like the shellacking they gave me on the temple roof. I was an idiot to go walking with Cassie without you to watch out for me. And thanks a million!" She grasped Reith's shoulders and gave him a long, lush kiss.
"Thanks for what?" asked Reith. "For the rescue? But—"
"Not exactly. That kiss was for calling me your wife, even when I'm not."
"Oh. To quote the late Attila Fodor, we're so nearly married it doesn't matter." He paused.
"Fergus!" cried Alicia. "You look pale all of a sudden. Are you sure you're not wounded?"
Reith sat down heavily on the bed. "I'm okay. It's just that—well, I'm no berserker. When I have to kill or be killed, I kill. It doesn't bother me at the time; but afterwards a reaction hits me. My leg bones turn to an inferior brand of jelly."
Alicia sat down and put an arm around him. After a silence, Reith said: "You know, Lish, there's much to be said for preserving native Krishnan culture. It's too bad the movement got into the hands of a nut like Schlegel."
"He meant well in his way," said Alicia.
"Sure, like the Trasks. Hundred-percent villains are as rare as hundred-percent heroes. But you've seen how Terra has become homogenized—arts, customs, costumes, everything—and I see the same process starting here."
"But darling," said Alicia, "when two cultures meet, there's always mutual acculturation."
"Eh? What's that?"
"They borrow traits from each other. If one is more advanced, the other does most of the borrowing. When Europeans conquered the Terran tropics, the native peoples began to imitate the Europeans—as by wearing clothes—not for rational reasons but because the Europeans had all the power and prestige. When Terran culture meets Krishnan, the same thing is bound to happen. And if, as twenty-second-century Americans, we believe in individual freedoms, why shouldn't the Krishnans have the same right to copy Terran culture traits all they want?"