Mahasingh grunted as he tried in vain to swing a leg up to get a foothold. Salazar felt around in the lava rock at his feet. He walked toward Mahasingh holding a lump of perhaps two kilos.
"Salazar!" said Mahasingh.
"Well?"
"If you are going to kill me, I beg a favor."
"What?"
"I pray that you crush my skull with that rock in your hand. I have a horror of falling alive into the lava, and I had rather be unconscious when I go on to my next life."
Salazar tossed the rock from hand to hand. "I don't really want to kill anybody. I'm a scientist, not a soldier or a gangster. I did scrag a couple of those lumberjacks you sent to ambush the train—"
"I did not send them! It was all Cantemir's idea. He insisted, against my advice."
"He tells a different story, but I won't try to sort it out now. In fact, I would even help you up if I didn't think you would then do me in."
"I swear by the holy Trimurti to do nothing of the sort!"
"Easy to say, but how do I know?"
"Listen, Salazar. I am through with my job for the Adriana Company. Half my lumberjacks have signed up with Abdallah as members of that new cult you started. The others have begun to drift away. Some, including Shapir, whom I made subforeman in Abdallah's place, have gone to Miss Ritter's village; others have gone back to Sungecho. With the crew I have left, it would take years to harvest the trees.
"I have tried to follow Arjuna's advice and be a good lumber-camp foreman, but I never knew the job would involve me in so many immoral, unethical actions. It has smudged my karma almost beyond repair. If you get me out of here, I shall return to the mainland, leaving Adriana's contract with High Chief Yaamo void. Cantemir never signed it; first, because Yaamo insisted on a delay because of the zuta watchers' objections. Now George is out of the picture, so Dumfries would have to sign it. Even if the company sent another gang, it could never meet the deadlines."
Salazar tossed up and caught the rock while thinking of a reply. Besides the rock, he still had his sheath knife, while Mahasingh had lost his machete, so Salazar could probably hold his own with the man. At last he said:
"All right, I'll try to get you out. But you see this?" He held up the two-kilo lump. "If you make a false move, I'll nail you with this. I was on my college baseball team, so I can kill or cripple you with this at any time."
This was a lie. Salazar had been a failure at sports, but Mahasingh need not know that. Salazar was thankful not to have betraying cervical spines.
"Baseball?" said Mahasingh. "That is the game that Terrans of American or Japanese descent play instead of cricket, is it not? I have seen them make jolly good throws and catches."
"Yes. But before I do anything more, I want some answers. First, why did you stop shooting?"
"Ran out of rounds, and in my haste I forgot to bring an extra clip. Stupid of me."
"Next, how did you get through the nanshins?"
"I was wearing a stout coat, and I drew the hood tightly and used the saddle pad from your juten as a shield. Even so, I got a few drops on my skin. When I came out of the woods, I took off the affected clothes before the venom ate through them."
"Speaking of my juten, who's going to pay the stable in Amoen for the animal?"
Mahasingh thought. "The ethical thing is for me to give you my mount. You will find it squatting where I left it, below the nanshin belt."
"How can I tell it from any other juten if it wanders off?"
"The claw on the third finger of its right hand is miss-mg.
"Lastly, how did you survive such a long, hard climb? You must be quite an athlete."
"I practice harkat-yoga, which keeps me fit. Had I not been winded from the climb, I could easily have made that jump. I say, Mr. Salazar, if you do not do something soon, I shall fall into the lava, anyway. My arms are giving out."
"Hm. But if I give you a hand, you're likely to pull me down with you. Let's see. If I can have that thing around your head, I may be able to brace myself while holding one end, and you hold the other."
"Here you are!" With one hand, Mahasingh snatched off the scarf and tossed it.
Salazar studied the contorted surface. He picked a spot where he could brace both feet against ridges of lava rock while his free hand grasped another projection. He tossed one end of the scarf to Mahasingh and, holding the other end looped around his wrist, lowered himself into a well-braced supine position.
"Okay," he grunted.
Then began a long, sweat-beading struggle. Salazar hoped the scarf was strong enough. It would be heartbreaking to have the fabric tear and drop Mahasingh into the inferno anyway.
Little by little Mahasingh inched his way up over the apex of the point. At last he could, with an additional pull on the scarf, wriggle one foot up the wall of Shikawa until he could get the toe of his shoe atop the edge. Then, with further grunting and heaving, he worked his way up and over. For an instant he remained on hands and knees, gasping.
Salazar stepped back, away from the edge, holding his rock at the ready. When Mahasingh finally rose to his feet, he made no move toward Salazar. His naked brown chest was scored and bleeding from the lava he had hugged.
"Mr. Salazar," said Mahasingh, "please believe me when I say that I have tried throughout to do the right thing. I admit I let that crass materialist Cantemir lure me into actions that will probably get me incarnated as a worm or a spider. Good night and good-bye, sir!"
Mahasingh walked off into the misty dark. Salazar thought, I could almost like that fellow if he weren't so self-righteous. Then he saw that the other had left his scarf on the rocks. He started to call out but choked off the call. The article might come in handy, so Salazar pocketed it.
For some minutes Salazar remained where he was, breathing hard and thinking. He preferred to see no more of Dhan Gopal Mahasingh. If he went back down the mountain with the man, he would have to keep his rock ready in case Mahasingh should change his mind and try to kill him after all, an act for which he would doubtless have worked out a lofty-sounding self-justification.
True, Mahasingh managed to sound like a high-minded, naively idealistic man trapped by circumstances in the role of villain. But as his father was wont to say, one could never be sure. The sensible thing would be for Salazar to keep his distance.
A quarter hour later Salazar stood on the base of the point from which he had rescued Mahasingh, taking a last look at Shikawa. The fountains sounded their steady swish-swish, swish-swish. Salazar had heard that at intervals the molten lava either rose and spilled out over the top of the mountain or sank down out of sight. In the latter case, pieces of the wall cracked off and went thundering down to the depths.
"Kirk!" barked the commanding voice of Alexis Ritter. "Are you alive? Silly question. Where's Mahasingh? Fall into the crater?"
"No, he's alive and well. At least, he was a few minutes ago, when he started back down the mountain. What are you doing here?"
"Somebody saw Mahasingh chasing Sri Sen, both mounted. I sent my Kooks to investigate, and they found one juten dead of gunshot and another squatting quietly without its rider. A long false beard lay on the ground between them." She looked hard at Salazar. "I thought there was something familiar about that phony prophet. He must have been you in a beard.
"There were also signs that someone had gone through the nanshins, hacking away the branches. So I collected Hatsa and Hagii and came up to see what happened." A wave indicated her rifle-bearing bodyguards, barely visible through the mist. "Your Choku said he would come, too, as soon as he secured your camp. I haven't seen him since. Did you say Mahasingh did not fall into Shikawa? And that you didn't push him in?"