The Shaman of Karres Read online

  “Your Honor, they pose a serious flight risk. They have a spacecraft, and nothing to lose,” said the prosecutor.

  The judge sighed. “Bail is granted with the conditional limitation that the prisoners not be permitted to pass though the spaceport airlock. Bail is set at ten thousand maels. Settle it with the clerk or be returned to jail. Dismissed.”

  So they filed out, with Captain Pausert wondering what to do now. They could draw ten thousand maels on the Venture’s account with the Daal’s Bank. But the Leewit wasn’t going to sit patiently and wait. He could, possibly, use the Egger Route, a way of transporting himself outside of space and time, but he didn’t think he could deal with doing so without help and also transporting the other two. And he couldn’t exactly leave them here. He paid the bail to buy time to think about it.

  They were met outside the court by a rather grave-faced chief inspector. “I am sorry about that,” said the policewoman awkwardly. “I should have anticipated that the prosecutor would try to stop bail and Judge Amorant would meet them half way. He makes an effort to be seen as fair. The best I can do is to offer to let you use the communicator in my office. Look, the young lady would be entirely free to leave the ship, to come to you. My officer reports he’s done a thorough search, found nothing, and he’s desperate to escape another poker game. He wants to know who taught her to play cards.”

  Pausert couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of the Leewit fleecing a green policeman. “That would be your fault, Vezzarn,” he said to the old spacer. “He taught both of my nieces.” In turning to look at the old spacer, Pausert noticed something odd—the scarecrow who had been put in the cell with them was also there. He blinked but said nothing about it. “I’ll take you up on your offer of being able to talk to my niece,” was all he said.

  So the chief inspector took Pausert and Ta’zara up to his office. Vezzarn said, “I’ll just as soon wait out here, Captain. Police offices make me nervous.”

  “They might ask where you learned to play cards,” said the captain, waving. He noticed the scarecrow man was still there.

  They went in and soon were talking to the Leewit—with a slightly alarmed looking policeman in the background. “Reckon I’ll stay put, so long as I know you’re all right,” she said, firmly, when he’d explained the situation, sounding very like her older sister, and giving Pausert a brief twinge of heart-sore. “But this fellow c’n leave,” she gestured at the policeman, “if you want him to. I’ve gotten all the money he had in his wallet, and I won’t take IOUs.” She looked at the chief inspector. “You should pay him better.”

  The captain was getting better at reading the Leewit by now. Good enough at it to figure out that there was something that she wasn’t saying in front of the policeman, and that she wanted him out of the Venture. So he played along. “All right. I suppose so,” he said with a suitable show of reluctance. “You can let him out then.”

  “Right, Captain. I’ll be seeing you, soon. You give me a bollem-call, when you get here. Out,” said the Leewit.

  “A bollem-call?” asked the chief inspector.

  She was quick, Pausert thought. “A hunting call from our homeworld,” he explained, which was true, but didn’t explain just how it worked.

  “Well, you’re free to come and use the communicator until the case, Captain,” she said. “I’ll be glad to have my assistant back. Now, you’ll need to find someplace to stay. I gather you have sufficient funds?”

  “I guess I’ll need them,” said Pausert.

  The chief inspector grimaced. “Yes. The Boromir is good and clean—about the best medium priced of the accommodations. Otherwise the Deward is the most expensive, and there are whole rows of flophouses along the Airlock roads. The closer you get to each lock, the more likely you are to get robbed, especially if you’re drunk. I can take you anywhere you want to go, except the spaceport.”

  “We’ll find our own way,” said Captain Pausert. “We’ve got time and it’s not like we could go anywhere before the trial.”

  “True,” said the chief inspector and let them go on their way.

  Outside they found Vezzarn, and the fellow who had been put in their cell. Now Pausert could finally ask him: “What are you doing here?”

  The man grinned disarmingly. “They let me out along ’o you. So I just follered along. And it’s too late to get back in jail for a sleep now. ’Sides I come down and woke up, and listened to the judge and that there prosecutor. You ain’t bonded to no one are you?”

  “No,” admitted Pausert. “My ship is sitting on the landing ground outside the spaceport…”

  “Captain!” They were hailed from across the street by someone with a familiar face—Pausert recognized the man as the lean planar-faced fellow, Farnal, whom they’d rescued. He was standing in a group of the freed pirate slaves.

  “Hello,” said Pausert, slightly warily.

  “Captain,” said the man, hands out in appeal, “is there any chance of taking us as passengers to any other world? These poor souls don’t have access to funds, and if they stay here, they’ll be little more than slaves. I can pay, but…not a great deal.”

  “Please, Captain?” said one of the women. “There’s not much work here a decent woman can do, and this place is so expensive. We’ll never get out. I’ve got a family on Marcott.”

  Pausert sighed. “Right now I am as stuck as you are, good folk. I’ve been charged with piracy and theft by that fellow Stratel who we rescued with you. I can’t go back to my ship until the case is heard.”

  “What?” exclaimed Farnal. “That worm!”

  “Pretty good description,” agreed Pausert. “The local police seem sure we’ll get off, but then, they were sure we could go back to the ship too. If we do get off, well, the ship could manage twenty people. It’d be uncomfortable and crowded, but there has to be another Empire world close by where at least you can breathe the air within a week or two.”

  Farnal seized his hands. “Captain. You are a good man. I…I had no idea what happened here in the Empire. It is more rotten than I believed.”

  “Where are you from then?” asked the captain, who knew, but was fishing.

  “Iradalia. I was on a mission to investigate the slave trade, particularly the traffic through Karoda.” He almost spat that word out.

  Pausert was glad the other rescuers were all talking at once. Karoda and Iradalia! There was something very odd about that. “How long do we have before the case, Captain?” asked someone in the hubbub.

  “Four days,” he answered. “I gather we’ve been pushed up the roll.”

  “Four days!” The woman who had exclaimed, shivered. There had been a limit to what the crew of the Venture 7333 could do about the rescued people’s clothing—and the slave-takers hadn’t cared. It was easy enough on the ship to turn the heating up but here…well, evening was coming on and it was already cooler. They might be in an enclosed dome, but plainly the sun did some of the warming of this environment.

  “We will make some kind of plan, Salla,” said the gaunt man, looking worried nonetheless. He’d plainly taken on responsibility for the group. They had neither the money nor mental fortitude to do it for themselves.

  Pausert felt sorry for them, but that was the difference between these, and Karres people. Karres witches, with or without klatha skills, would have made their own plans. “You could get arrested, and spend the night in jail,” he suggested. “I gather it’s the best and safest place to sleep around here.”

  “And they give you breakfast,” volunteered the scarecrow local. “Just korma porridge, but it don’t cost anything and it is food.”

  Their planar-faced leader looked somewhat taken aback. “I have never broken the law…”

  “I think,” said Ta’zara with that gravelly firmness that quelled the other voices, “That you should go into that police station there, and ask for Chief Inspector Salaman. Tell her that someone threatened to harm you if you were to talk about the space rescue. Th
en she will have to protect you as witnesses.”

  “What?” said the planar-faced man, looking puzzled.

  “I c’n threaten you!” offered the scarecrow, generously.

  “And I too,” said Ta’zara. “You are afraid, because I was a threat on the ship. And now you have seen me on the streets.”

  “But…but you aren’t dangerous. I mean you were just helping to keep order,” said one of the people they’d rescued.

  “But I am dangerous. The most dangerous man you may ever meet,” said Ta’zara calmly. “It is to whom I am dangerous that you do not know. But the police will believe you. They want to. And then you can testify at the case.”

  “Let us do this,” said their leader. “I do not like to bend the truth, but I can see that it will serve us all and justice best in the long run.”

  So the group of rescued passengers headed toward the police station, which gave Pausert and his companions a chance to move away. “You know, Captain, once that prosecutor gets back to that Stratel fellow, they probably will be looking for witnesses against us. And possibly trying to get us back in jail,” said Vezzarn nervously. “I know the type. It’s how they work, Captain.”

  “Yes,” said Pausert. “They’ll certainly try to arrest Ta’zara. For menaces. You just gave them reason, Ta’zara.”

  “But you are planning to get us back onto the ship, Captain,” said Ta’zara, imperturbably. “You and the Leewit.”

  The captain shook his head. “I just hope the police don’t read me as well as you do. I was planning to fly off and leave them to it, but maybe I need to rethink this. In the light of something that came up.”

  “I know how you call bollems,” said Ta’zara, with just a hint of a smile. “How do you plan to do this, Captain?”

  The captain looked at the scarecrow-gatherer, who was in a conversation with Vezzarn—a conversation that involved lots of wild gestures. He seemed very busy with it. “I was going to pay him to lead us around, outside, to the ship.”

  Ta’zara nodded. “He drinks too much, Captain. Also uses some kind of narcotic drug. He may be less than reliable.”

  “Yes. But he’s not young. And it is tough out there, I gather. He’s still alive, so he must be quite good at it. And all we have to do is take a walk around the domes. I can get us in to the field with the ship.”

  Later, in a small eatery that the gatherer recommended as cheap but good, with prices that made Captain Pausert’s frugal Nikkeldepain upbringing reel, they put this to the gatherer and discovered they were wrong about walking. The gatherer, whose name it turned out was Nady, laughed.

  “So it can’t be done?” asked the captain, wondering if, with his klatha skills and Vezzarn’s mastery of lockpicking, and Ta’zara being something of a one man army, they could get through the spaceport itself.

  “Well now, it’s not that it cain’t be done. You cain’t just walk around. You’d have to go down North Valley, and over Kassarite Pass, ’n down Jagged-Ferd Gorge. And then the port’s got a wall around it, to keep the porpentiles out. I could get you that far. But you cain’t get through the wall, and it’s got detectors along the top.”

  “You get us there, we’ll deal with that,” said the captain.

  “Oh, I c’n do that. But you’re gunna have to kit up. You’ll die in them clothes.”

  “How much?” asked Vezzarn. He’d dealt with enough smuggling operations in the past, Pausert knew. He’d be the best to negotiate a deal.

  Nady rubbed the side of his long bony red-tipped nose, thoughtfully. “You really reckon you can do it? Well, then. I reckon I c’n do you a deal. Less we talk about here…” He looked around warily, “the better. Come on. Let’s get moving.”

  So they did, trooping out after him. He seemed in a tearing hurry, suddenly. “We are being followed,” said Ta’zara, quietly.

  Nady looked back and swore. “It’s some of that kranslit Bormgo’s goons.”

  “Let us go down this little side walkway,” said Ta’zara, calmly, steering him by an elbow.

  “But it’s a dead end,” protested Nady.

  “Perfect. It will not take long,” said Ta’zara. “Wait.”

  Their two followers came around the corner hastily, looking for them. And then, they saw Ta’zara detach himself from the wall he’d been leaning against—between them and the way out. They were big, heavyset men. One man behind them didn’t seem to worry them that much. One of the two reached for a pocket…but his hand had never gotten there. The Na’kalauf bodyguard moved so smoothly it was actually deceptive. It didn’t look fast, but he somehow chopped down hard on the reaching forearm, and then literally banged their heads together. As they fell, he reached out to squeeze something in their necks. Squeeze and hold, until he dropped them. “We can leave now,” he said.

  “Great Patham!” exclaimed Nady. “I ain’t picking fights with you, broad-feller. Let’s go quick before their friends find ’em.”

  So they followed, into a somewhat more seedy area, the apartment blocks going right up to the dome. He led them into one of these. Up flight after flight of stairs, leaving Vezzarn panting, and even the captain breathing a bit harder. Sitting in a command chair kept your wits fit, not your legs. Eventually they stopped at a very ordinary-looking door. Their guide knocked on it, a complicated pattern of taps. A voice spoke through the speaker grill. “Who is it?”

  “Nady Darrish. I’ve come about the pipes.”

  There was a pause. And then the wall behind them swung open—not the door. “This way,” said Nady. “Quick. She don’t keep it open long.”

  They went in down a passage and up yet another stair, through what was plainly a blast-door from a spacecraft. It swung open as they got there to reveal a neat office, as might have belonged to any minor businessman. That was a bit worrying, Pausert thought. It was plain they were dealing with some kind of criminal, and he’d had concluded after his various experiences that the really powerful ones tried not to look it.

  The woman sitting at the desk didn’t look at all criminal. Her age was hard to guess, but it was somewhere between thirty and fifty. She was perfectly made-up, neat hair, good clothing but not too revealing. She had the kind of face which said to a smart gambler: Do not play cards with me. And behind her stood another Na’kalauf warrior, plainly her bodyguard. Neither the man nor Ta’zara gave any sign of recognizing or even acknowledging the other.

  “Ah. The spaceship captain and his associates. Well done, Nady,” said the woman.

  “And you are?” asked Pausert.

  “I am Me’a,” she said with just a hint of a wry smile. “Don’t cross me, or you will regret it.”

  “I actually don’t want to cross you at all. I just want out of this dome and back to my ship,” said the captain.

  “And I want to know exactly what is going on,” she answered. “So perhaps if you help me, I can try to help you. Although I am not sure even I can get you through the spaceport locks.”

  “They was talkin’ about going around outside,” said Nady. “Seemed to think they could get through the wall.”

  She looked at them. “That would be worth doing, if you could get back into your ship once you were there. We’ve thought about it.”

  “Why haven’t you done it?” asked the captain. He was sure now that he’d landed upright among the smugglers. That could be tricky, as he really didn’t need the police regarding him as a prime suspect after all. She was undoubtedly dangerous, and she had a bodyguard who was also a Na’kalauf warrior.

  She shrugged. “Most ships are not allowed to remain long. Daytime landings only. And the perimeter wall has heat and sound sensors in it, so cutters and explosives cannot be used. They used to have infrared scanners on the field, but the system broke down—and they hadn’t ever had an incident, so they didn’t bother to replace it.” She grimaced slightly. “We keep a close eye on what they have. There are easier ways for small volumes. They would not work well on people…Captain Pausert.”


  Pausert wondered if he should try a klatha cocoon on her, or the bodyguard. “How did you know that?” he said as calmly as he could.

  “Subradio, a coded narrow-beam. When your ship landed and I obtained a picture of her, details of the crew and vid image of you and Ta’zara. I sent the details through to my employer, Sedmon of the Six Lives. He guessed Karres would become involved, and he warned me to give you my fullest cooperation.”

  “Oh.” That made a kind of sense. Uldune was still heavily involved in smuggling, even if it had—at least for now—withdrawn from piracy. And it seemed this was a very lucrative trade. “You may not believe this, but we really are here by the purest accident.”

  “You are quite correct,” said the woman. “I would not believe you. But you may tell me anyway. Let me have drinks brought. Sit down, make yourselves comfortable.” She looked at Nady. “I think you can remain too. You may be needed, and you know the consequences of not keeping your mouth shut.”

  So the captain and Vezzarn sat down on the comfortable chairs. Nady perched uneasily on the edge of another. Ta’zara remained standing—as did her bodyguard, impassive, aloof…and watching. Pausert noticed her flickering glance at her own guard, and the tiniest shake of his head. A side door opened and a servitor brought Lepti liquor for Pausert, a fruit drink that Pausert had seen the Na’kalauf bodyguard drink before, as well as something that plainly pleased Nady. A platter of various nuts and small salted biscuits was set on the table. Lepti…which was his favorite liquor. They were all too well informed, thought Pausert. But at least it was very unlikely that Sedmon of the Six Lives would move against Karres. The witches disquieted the hexaperson into a degree of good behavior.

  A strange lithe little head popped out of Nady’s collar. It made a curious growling chirrup.

  The woman sighed, pursed her lips and shook her head. “You have one of those too, do you? Get it some Tar-fish, Palank.” The servitor nodded and returned in a few minutes with some little cubes of fishy-smelling something. The creature appeared again and almost seemed to flow out of the top of Nady’s shirt. He stroked its mauve fur as it moved. At first Pausert assumed it didn’t have legs—but something was definitely moving under the fur. It moved as if it were gliding just above the ground, across to the platter, snatched up two pieces of the fish in its beakish maw and returned equally silently to Nady’s shirt collar, to disappear again. Nobody else seemed to find that unusual. The servitor took the rest of the cubes away, which was a good thing, because they were more than just a little smelly.