Rajendra didn’t appreciate irony at all, as far as Silva could tell. Apparently he didn’t appreciate much of anything. Even after all these weeks, he seemed able to summon only a scowl when his eyes fell upon Dennis. Silva was philosophical about that too. He’d saved the man’s life. He’d saved all their lives. But the way he’d gone about it
… He supposed it was inevitable there’d be a touch of resentment. Like the others, Rajendra went armed with a musket, but he also carried a brace of pistols and a sword. Occasionally, absently, Silva wondered if the man’s desire to use the weapons on him had waned at all. He didn’t lose sleep over it, but it could be distracting to know he really needed to watch his back as well as his front.
At least one other “person” looked after him besides the wellintentioned Abel Cook. Larry the Lizard may not have been willing to technically spill the beans about the island, but he was Silva’s friend. Larry was a Tagranesi, a species strikingly similar in appearance to the hated Grik. He was colored differently and not as big, but those distinctions hadn’t been particularly clear when they’d met.
There’s irony for you, Dennis thought, remembering that he’d actually shot Larry, thinking he was a Grik, but the little guy didn’t hold it against him. Hell of a lot more forgiving Than Rajendra. I didn’t even shoot him. Irony again. Of course, having now seen the Grik and participated in the Battle of Baalkpan, Larry understood why Dennis had shot him. That had been a different time. The “lizards” were the enemy. All the lizards. They now knew not all Grik-like beings on this world were Grik, and that added even more confusion to an already screwed-up situation. Just like folks, Dennis thought, hell, even Japs. There’s all different sorts. Things sure were a lot simpler back when. you could just kill ’em all without needin’ to sort ’em out first. Oh, well, those days were over and it was probably just as well. Even Silva never thought in quite such simple terms anymore. He was glad Larry liked him-and that he always seemed to bring up the rear when one of their Imperial co-castaways was behind Dennis in the bush.
Appearing last, as usual, Larry was also armed with a musket. The weapon didn’t really fit him-he just wasn’t built for it-but he’d probably had more practice with one than most of the Imperials on the island.
“There you are, you little runt,” Silva said. “I figgered I’d have to go find your lost ass… again. You been chasin’ butterflies or bugs or something? Find a worm to eat?”
“I not lost,” Lawrence grumped. “I thirsty, though.”
“Shouldn’t have drank all your water so fast then.”
“I ’ound ’ater. I al’ays do.”
“Even if it leaves you draggin’ ass along like a one-legged toad? ” Silva accused.
“I not draggin’ ass. You draggin’ ass. I go slow to stay ’ehind you. I don’t need to hack a hole to get giant, useless ass through here.”
“Mmm.” Silva looked at the Tagranesi, who stared back with his head cocked slightly to one side. According to Bradford, the young darkening and lengthening crest atop it meant he was nearing adulthood-if he hadn’t already reached it. Whether he was actually there or not, he increasingly acted like it, and joking aside, Dennis knew exactly what Lawrence had been up to. Oddly enough, his almost orange, tigerstriped, downy-furry hide afforded him considerable camouflage, even against the dark green, hazel, and almost bluish foliage of the dense jungle covering most of the island. As usual, he’d been hanging back to make sure he’d spot anything that went after the main party so he could give warning before it was upon them. He had a musket and he could shoot it, but his formidable claws and teeth were probably a better deterrent to anything sneaking up behind them.
“Well,” Dennis said when the group had gathered around him, “let’s see if we can get across that patch yonder in one piece.” Without waiting for comments, he started across the clearing, entering the ever-deepening grass. Behind him, Rajendra slung on his musket and pulled out his pistols-the better to engage close-up threats. Silva was mildly impressed that the usually puffed-up Imperial did something he approved of without being told.
“Mister Silva?” Abel asked. “I notice that you are avoiding the large clumps of colorful foliage.”
“Yep. If there’s any dangerous beasties out here, I’d expect ’em to live in the thicker crap.”
“May I approach one closer?”
Silva stopped. Abel was kind of Bradford’s protege, and was apparently just as interested in strange critters and bushes as the Australian “naturalist” was. “Well, I suppose,” he grumped. “You’re the next thing to grown-up, and I can’t nursemaid you forever. Just be careful.” He raised his voice. “Larry, Mr. Cook’s gonna gawk at them weeds. Keep an eye on him, will ya?”
Larry nodded without complaint. He’d learned to “kid around” with Silva and others, but an order was still an order. Besides, he liked and trusted Abel.
“We don’t have time for this,” Rajendra grumbled. “We’ve wasted more of the day in that dreadful bamboo than I care to contemplate. What if we reach this dubious destination of yours and then can’t make it back to our beach camp before dark? We may be forced to make camp out here somewhere. I don’t relish that thought.”
“Oh, quit moaning. It’ll be clear sailing from here. The sea can’t be far beyond that little stretch of jungle past this plain. Hell, I can hear it. We won’t get stuck out here; all we got to do is scamper back down this cut we made. It may have taken us all day to make it, but we can be back at camp in an hour or two, I guess. Why don’t you ever look on the bright side? We done thrashed a damn road through here, like fleas marchin’ across a dog’s back.”
“Where you are concerned, Mr. Silva, the only ‘bright side’ to anything I seem able to imagine involves fire and destruction,” Rajendra said darkly. “You must forgive my lack of enthusiasm.”
“Gloomy, pessimistic, and touchy,” Silva replied cheerfully. “How you ever survived childhood, ugly as you are, is a myst’ry to me.”
Rajendra’s face clouded, but he didn’t respond. Dennis knew the man hated him for a number of reasons, not least because Silva was very good at pointing out Rajendra’s real failings. The problem was, Silva was irrepressibly irreverent by nature, and friendly banter was as necessary to his survival as food and water. Particularly now. The worse things got, the more he joked around. It was his way of dealing with stress. If it helped keep his and the others’ spirits up, that was a bonus. He’d begun to suspect that Rajendra just couldn’t take a joke though, especially from him, and probably took his banter as calculated taunts and insults. Oh, well. He couldn’t help what folks thought. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d finally goad the Imperial captain into giving him an excuse to kill him. Then he wouldn’t have to watch his back so much.
He eased a little farther to the left while Abel and Larry approached the nearest mound of “kudzu” so he could cover them a little better.
“Goodness gracious!” Abel exclaimed, reminding Silva of Bradford again, and causing a grin to split his face. “It’s full of bones!”
“Bones? ” cried Midshipman Brassey, hurrying to join Abel. The two boys shared many interests and were becoming friends. “What sort of bones?”
“Well, big ones! They’re difficult to see through all the foliage, but they’re perhaps comparable to those of a small whale.” He stopped, looking at Brassey as the boy joined him. “Do you have whales? I mean, are there any where you live?”