"There must be a considering of this," the Axe replied. "You will be told what the answer will be." So abruptly he turned and waddled away.
"He has a reason," Jofre ventured. The issha might not be able to read minds but they were aware when alerted to certain emanations of emotion. He was certain that the Axe was indeed taking time out to think and that, behind his assent, if assent it would be, there would also be a scheme set in motion.
"There is one on guard," Taynad said in a low tone from the door to which they had followed, more slowly, their late visitor.
"We could not expect less," Zurzal asserted. "But I think we need fear no more attention until our friend is ready to move."
IT WAS ONLY PARTLY IMPATIENCE WHICH RODE JOFRE. He held Zurzal's knowledge to be far above even that of the Shagga priests—and put to better use. However, he also knew that the Zacathan was so fiercely determined to prove the efficiency of the scanner that he might be led to overlook any hidden threats. Its use on Tssek had confirmed for Zurzal that he could do this, but to be able to deliver a find from Lochan would reestablish his credit among his own peers. And that was a situation which Jofre could understand very well, even though he himself could have no hope of a triumphant return to Asborgan and an addition of issha status made by the Shagga.
The sheer mechanics of a crossing of the long tundralike plain to the northern country was always to the fore of his mind. That they could tramp it carrying all their supplies was out of the question. From the scanty tape information they had studied so carefully they knew that the Shattered Land would be a far greater obstacle even than the insect-infested tundra.
"We can make no deal with Gosal?" he asked, though he was sure of the answer. "Even if he would give us use of the one gravity sled—"
"Those carriers," Taynad added as if she had been following some line of reasoning of her own, "are they natives or beasts, servants, slaves—? The Jat has tried to reach them by mind touch—there is nothing there."
"They serve both the maned people and those they call Deves," Jofre commented. "But even with such aid could we reach our goal while our supplies still hold out?"
Zurzal's toothed jaws showed in a grin. "We shall have another visitor," he stated. "One who will come by dark."
And Jofre, who had quickly retaken his place as sentry, was startled as there was a warning from the other end of the warehouse, that where there seemed to be only solid wall. He saw movement and knew that Taynad was on alert, slipping from their cubicle to the door of the next, the Jat close beside her.
"It is all right," Zurzal said, his hissing voice carrying easily. "Bright evening to you, Commander!"
That port official who had been so obstructive at their landing passed close enough to one of the moss torches to show his face, pausing in the light a second or two as if to make sure they recognized him, before he slipped into their quarters and settled himself cross-legged facing the Zacathan.
"You are a fool, Learned One," his voice had the rasp of exasperation in it. "There is no way under the Heavens of Lochan that you can succeed in this." .
"Men have succeeded on thinner chances than the one I have been offered, Wok Bi. And you have your orders."
"Orders!" The man flung up his hands in a gesture which suggested that this was indeed folly. "You head willfully into country where one expedition came to a very bloody end. There are what—four of you—one a woman—another a Jat—you would need a squad of Patrol to even venture over the border there. It is madness and you are forcing me to be a part of it."
"Your orders are plain," Zurzal returned placidly. "Yes, we are a small party, but that means we have less to transport. It is the transport that we must now consider."
"No Pungal owner will lease out to you and I cannot make them." There was a small note of satisfaction in that. "And on your own feet there is no possible way to reach your goal before Change-season."
"There are the Gar," Zurzal said.
"Gar!" The way Wok Bi said that name made it sound as if the Zacathan had hissed it.
Gar—Jofre remembered. There had been a brief note concerning them on one of the tapes. They were the nomads of the inner lands and the off-worlders would have to transverse those in order to reach their own goal.
"Yes. Captain Gosal has a mixed cargo. There were Gar dealers to meet us at set down. And those have caravan trails inland. With fresh goods some one of them will be moving out."
"The priests will not hear of it!" Wok Bi fell back on a second objection.
"I think that there will be a change of thought there, too. Now—the Gar caravans must have been transport other than these Punga—"
Wok Bi shook his head. "No, not this side of the Var, but they do have carriers which are steady movers. It is said that sometimes they keep the trail for a full day and a night at a time since their drivers have learned to sleep a-swing. On the other side of the Var—there you would have to take your chance with what the Wild Ones use—they have mounts of a sort—I have seen a couple of specimens of them—running four-legged, with a sweep of horn—and nasty tempered I am told. Also that you might be able to make any deals for a guide or beasts of burden beyond the Var—that is very problematical."
"Commander, you have done your duty in stating frankly all the perils we must face. I shall, of course, give you a tape absolving you of blame which might come from some catastrophe. But go on, we shall."
Again the man threw up his hands. "On your head be it. There is also this—within the Shattered Land none of our corns work. If you are caught in some trouble, you cannot call for any aid—not that we would have any to send you."
"That is also understood," agreed the Zacathan.
"Be it on your own heads then." The commander got up. "I do not expect to see you again. If there is any hope of fortune, may it be yours. But I doubt such exists."
They settled then for the night, Jofre taking the first watch once again, well advised that the warehouse door was under surveillance from the outside. He thought of Zurzal's stubbornness. To an oathed the wishes of his patron were law. He might advise if called upon, but the central core of any operation remained the choice of the one to whom he had pledged himself. After all, men of the Lair had served very threatened causes before, and the triumph of some of them over great odds was the material for the Legend singers. No man could see the future and it was best to live but one day, one night at a time. His fingers sought within his girdle for that small pocket he had fashioned and drew out the stone. There was no heart fire in it, but it was warm and that warmth reached within him, far—banishing the ghosts of foreseeing. He held it so until Taynad moved up to take his place as sentry, closing his hand quickly when he heard those faint stirs in the dark which marked her coming. This was his secret only and he would hold it so.
However, Taynad had thoughts of her own. She had taken the measure of this Zacathan and she believed that if anyone could succeed in what sounded like a fever-born dream quest, it was he. There was something else. She found the twigs of her braids and once more fingering read their message. If not capture—kill! But to take the life of a Brother was to break-oath. And not to follow orders was an even greater break-oath. The Shagga wanted Jofre— they would find the means of contacting her even here— since they had joined forces with the Guild. The latter was as legendary as the issha-trained in achieving what its members were set to do.