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Although shed been useful, she was
'
getting to be a real pain-and a danger. He considered his answer, know-ing
that if he lied she'd just spy on him all night.
"Dend leave when dark," he admitted. "Oona no stop leave?
"
"Oona leave, go where Dend go," she replied un-hesitatingly.
He was surprised. Not only had he not counted on this, but she would most
certainly get in the way. She had been nice to him; she wouldn't understand
what he was doing with the witch doctor, and she would certainly be out on a
limb if he managed to get the jewel and then left.
The trouble with this language is that it allows you to communicate action but
not to hold subtle arguments.
"
Oona no leave. Not good. Dend come back to fight in year," he attempted.
"Oona leave, go where Dend go," she persisted.
He gave up. A big argument would draw attention to him; if he left her behind,
she might raise an alarm just to have him returned.
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Okay, Oona, old mother hen, you dug your own hole, he thought.
Through dusk and into darkness he feigned increas-ing pain but refused to
smoke the magic leaves. There was enough sympathy and respect for him that
nobody was suspicious; nobody questioned him.
Oona meanwhile gathered up a few things in a skin pouch and waited. It was
well into the night;
even the moon was below the canyon walls by the time he was ready. Just about
everybody was asleep, and furious snores echoed off the canyon walls. Even
Oona was dropping off. Mac rose as quietly as possible and started away.
Suddenly she looked up, saw him going, and began to follow. He cursed a little
under his breath but could do nothing to stop her.
It was remarkably easy to escape. The only reason more slaves hadn't done it
was, first, this was an in-stinctually tribal people who were not suited to
going it alone, and second, the life of a slave was neither that terribly
bad nor a permanent condition. One had more to lose from escaping,
particularly because there was just about nothing to escape to.
Oona remained quiet. She didn't even utter a sound when she saw him
make his way back toward the far left base of the canyon instead
of away downriver, although her face showed extreme confusion.
He had no weapons, but passing near a fire pit that had gone out, he grabbed a
thick piece of wood that would serve as a club. He also steered clear of the
dogs, which would challenge him if he came too close to their owners'
territories. They were his worst fear, since if just one got set off they all
would, and everybody would be awake. They were the tribal guard.
The witch doctor's area was apart from the others, and he kept no dog. Dogs
didn't like the witch doctor any more than the people did-less, it seemed.
That was the other worry.
And there he was-sleeping there on a collection of netting, dead to the world.
Mac was happy to see it. This was the first indication he had that
demons slept. The surgery this one had undergone to make him more human
was very good indeed, but he still walked and even slept with his legs at the
odd angle more appropriate to his own cloven-hoofed race.
Now to the task. A jewel like Mogart's would glow in the eerie darkness even
if a tiny portion of it was exposed to air, Mac felt sure of that. The one he
had seen had appeared to have a life of its own. Mac looked around, concerned
now. His plan had seemed very simple, but somehow he'd known it wouldn't be.
Seeing no other artifacts, he felt certain the jewel had to be in the skin bag
with the herbs and sharp stones that was the demon's medical kit. Surely so
essential a thing as the jewel would not be left behind in some buried
spot. It was his badge of authority with these savages and, most
important, his only way out of un-foreseen tight situations. It just had to be
here.
The demon slept soundly. Mac crept close to him, club at the ready, reaching
the skin bag that was a mere hand's span from the witch doctors face. He
picked it up, stepped back a bit, and
'
opened the bag in anticipation.
There was no glowing gem.
He dumped the contents of the bag onto the ground and felt inside
again for hidden compartments. There were none. The jewel wasnt in the bag;
it wasn't around anyplace he could
'
see, and since the demon was nude, as they all were, it wasn't in his
clothing, either. The witch doctor still wore his bone jewelry, but that was
hardly a likely hiding place. None of the bones was large enough to contain or
conceal the gem.
There was nothing else Mac could do. If he couldn't find the gem, then the
demon would have to tell him where it was. He judged the distance,
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angle, and veloc-ity required, and hoped he wasn't making a big
mis-take. Raising the club, he brought it down hard on the demon's skull.
The witch doctor started as if shocked; his eyes and mouth flew open. For a
fleeting moment
Mac feared that he would cry out an alarm, but then the eyes rolled upward,
closed again, and he sagged visibly.
So demons can also be knocked cold. That's handy to know, too, Mac Walters
thought.
Being as careful as he could, he hoisted the body, which was surprisingly
light, over his back and good shoulder and turned. Oona just stood there,
mouth open, knowing what she was seeing but totally unable to comprehend any
of it.
Mac didn't care. His burden still made his bad shoulder hurt like hell, and
he wanted out of there as quickly as possible.
The demon groaned and opened his eyes. Things were terribly blurry, and his
head pounded.
Finally he made out two dim shapes and tried to focus on them. He was in a
cave, he knew that.
He tried to move his arms and legs and found them bound with strong vines.
Balthazar smiled suddenly. Bound and spirited away! What fun! A man's face
came close to his and he could make out the features.
This is Guml's slave, Dend, he thought, wondering just what was going on here.
"
Where stone that bums?" Dend demanded.
It took Balthazar a second to comprehend. This fellow meant the amplifier! He
chuckled Why
Dend want stone that burns?" he asked, both curious and amused. No good but to
spirit priests.
"
Kill
Dend."
Now it was the other man's turn to laugh. "No kill Dend. Dend no want. Mac
Walters hesitated
"
now, trying to decide whether to blow the whole bit.
Oh, hell, he thought sourly, what harm could it do? At least this creature
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