"You're late," Singer told Okagamut as Myosl collapsed. "No, wait, the other's getting up!"
Both rushed at the remaining Krishnan, who, however, was now on his feet and using them. He leaped through the doorway and up the stairs. The Earthmen tripped and stumbled after him. The stairs, half buried in moss and stones, led up to what must have once been a hidden entrance on the surface, long since fallen to pieces. Though all three moons bathed the snow-spotted landscape, the Krishnan could not be seen. A half-hoda away rose the wall of Vyutr.
Okagamut said: "Maybe he's behind one of these boulders or bushes, but even if we flushed him the racket would bring the guard out."
"Good-o," said Singer. "Let's see what we've got below."
The two Krishnans in the chapel were dead, one with the hilt of Okagamut's short sword sticking out of his ribs. The blade must have stuck in a bone, for Okagamut had to take the hilt in both hands and set his foot on the corpse to jerk the blade out.
"That's the trouble with Krishnans," said Singer. "They looks human except for details like the ears and feelers, but you never can tell where their bones and vital organs are." He picked up the sword of the man who had run away. "You know, Earl, maybe swords ain't so silly here after all. I think I'll keep this half-pie article. Of course if I had me lady from Bristol ..." He examined the cheap sword, whose scabbard had fled with its owner. On the other hand the attacker whom Okagamut had killed had broken his sword.
"His lunge went over my shoulder and hit the wall," Okagamut explained. "What do you make of this attack?"
Singer fitted the odd sword into the dead man's scabbard. A little tight, but it would have to do.
"Simple robbery, near as I can see;" he said. "I don't know this smear here. Still, we'd best push off. I say, there ought to be a fortune in smuggling modern arms to these bushmen!"
"Been tried. The Interplanetary Council goes to any length to stop it. There was the King of Zamba's crate of machine-guns—but that's a long story."
"What's the idea of that crook I.C. regulation?"
"To keep Krishnans from exterminating each other, I suppose. Still, a smart Earthman can use his brains without actually breaking the rule."
"Like the way you stoushed that skite? If I'm not mistaken, the pugilistic manoeuvre you employed was a right cross, which takes practice and is only for experts. How about it?"
"I was in the ring once," said Okagamut. "Before I went to college. When I was a freshman the coach found out and had me in the gym showing the boys how to do rights over lefts. Funny thing, nobody ever tried to haze me."
"I can see why," said Singer.
Singer said: "We ought to come to this cocky's hut sarvo."
They had stopped to rest where the road crossed a spur of the range leading up to the Psheshuva. The clear air allowed a view over many miles of hills covered with bushy growths, rolling away to the snowy plain beyond. Vyutr was a smudge on the horizon.
"We'd better, before we run out of grub," said Okagamut. "I'll ask the next smitrot-herder."
The herder gripped his club suspiciously, while his fsyok rose to its six legs and yowled threateningly. When assured that they had no designs on his herd he told them: "A little farther, my masters; see yon hill? Just out of sight over it, take a trail to the right ..."
They took up the weary walk again. At last they found the hut. Their knock was answered by a short gnome of a Krishnan with frayed antennae and white hair. "Who be ye?"
"Are you Dyenük?" said Okagamut.
"Answer not one question with another, if ye'd do business with me."
"We are the men from Syechas."
"Prove it," said the gnome.
"Here's a letter from him. Uh, you're holding it upside down."
"So I be, heh heh. Come in, come in. Mayey!" he shouted.
He led them into the house, rudely furnished but comfortable, solidly built, and too big to be called a hut. A flat-faced Nichnyamadze girl, clad only in the smitrot-skin pants worn by the country folk of both sexes in this cold region, looked up from her housecleaning to giggle. A second one appeared. "My daughters, Mayey and Pyesatül. Good girls ever since they were hatched. Ye'd like rest and food ere we take up the business?"
"You are right, sir," said Okagamut, sinking into a chair and tugging at a boot.
"So your name's Mayey?" said Singer to the first girl, grinning. "Now that is a nice name. I. think not that I ever heard it before."
"Oh, great lord, you mock a poor mountain maid. 'Tis common."
"Well, that could be, as I have never—uh—been hereabouts before. A pretty name goes with a pretty face and other things ..."
Okagamut said: "Drink your kvad, Dinky, and leave Mayey alone. Have you got all the stuff for us, Dyenük?"
The gnome counted on fingers. "The overboots, mittens, and other items of clothing, aye. The sled, skis and poles, tent, stove, and such-like items of gear, aye. The horashevë, not yet ready, but with your help, good sirs—"
"What is horashevë?" said Singer.
"What we'd call pemmican on Earth," said Okagamut.
"Well, what's that?"
"It's what we'll be eating. Go on, Dyenük."
"But now, sirs, I come to the sad part of the tale, as it says in the story of the princess with two heads. For a disease has afflicted the fsyok-kennels of this-land within the last two ten-nights, so that I can spare you but five fsyokn to pull your sled."
"Five!" said Okagamut.
"Aye, but big and strong. They'll manage everywhere save on steep slopes, and as for that, such lusty youths as yourselves should make no obstacle thereof."
"We're in a fix," said Okagamut to Singer. "I was counting on nine. We'll have to push the damned sled halfway to Olñega."
"Slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, as that chap Napoleon said," replied Singer cheerfully. "Oh well, they says exercise is good for one." And he left the technicalities to his companion while he turned his charm on Mayey.
Pyesatül announced dinner, during which Okagamut and the oldster chattered about weather, weight of equipment, food required per man per day, and other factors in polar travel. As they talked in local units of measurement, Singer could make nothing of it. Dyenük also inveighed against the tyranny of the Kangandite cult, who by their tabus on meat had impoverished honest herders:
"The revenue from the hides, sirs, barely pays my taxes; wherefore for tobacco and such simples I must sell through folk like Syechas—I, always hitherto a veritable pillar of legality ..."
Afterwards Okagamut said: "With your kind permission we'll retire, omitting supper to be up early on the morrow."
Singer murmured to Mayey: "See you later, little one," before his companion hauled him away to their room.
When Okagamut seemed to be breathing regularly, Singer got up, slipped on his shirt and pants, and tiptoed to the door.
"What are you up to, Dinky?" came a sharp whisper.
"Nothing to fret about. Just a date with the dinkum sheila."
"Damn you! Move and I'll put a bolt through you!"
The lamp came on, and Singer saw that his friend did indeed have his crossbow-pistol in hand, loaded and cocked.
"What the flopping hell's bothering you, pal?" said Singer. "Don't get off your bike over this!"
"You leave those girls alone, see?"
"And what business is it of yours, may I inquah?"
"Anything you do while you're with me's my business. If you make a pass at those girls, I'll kill you. We've got enough troubles without leaving some broken-hearted Jane to put Yadjye's cops on your track."
"But I was only going to give her a bit of a smoodge—good clean fun."
"You heard me. If you don't like it you can stay here while I take the team. I can get across the Psheshuva alone, and you can't. Get me?"