"But that's crazy!" She looked up as Marot approached. "Aristide, talk sense into this chivalrous idiot! He's acting like one of his nuttier tourists!"
When Reith's plan had been explained, Marot said: "I sympathize, my friend. An ancestor of mine killed a man in a duel on less provocation. But let us see if the means you propose will lead to the desired result, or if they will be—how do you say—contraproductive. First, have you any idea how good a fencer Foltz is?"
"No. Do you know, Lish?"
"I suspect he's quite good. He has some padded jackets and wooden practice swords, and he and the guards fence with them."
"Furthermore," continued Marot, "you propose to assail this villain alone, when he has eight or nine Krishnans, including a pair of armored guards, at his call. You would have only me, and I am no warrior; I do not think our Krishnans would be of help. Even if you wounded Foltz, one of his retainers would stab you from behind. Then who would be left to protect the lady?"
"Fergus needn't pick a fight with Warren," said Alicia. "He said he'd kill both of you, the first chance he got."
"Then again," continued Marot in his calm, professorial manner, "suppose against all odds that you succeed. Dasht Kharob was very insistent that there be no combat between Foltz and me, and I am sure he would feel just as strongly about you and Foltz. Unless the winner quickly escaped across some border, he would find himself arrested by the men of the Dasht. By then, the High Priestess may be back on her throne, looking for a chance to question the victor on the orthodoxy of his theological views—with the help of the red-hot pincers."
"I hate to admit you're right," growled Reith. "But suppose Foltz brings his whole gang over here and attacks us?"
"Then we must fight or flee, as circumstances dictate. Meanwhile, I urge that we finish our work as soon as possible. If you and I aid our Krishnans with the picks and the shovels, perhaps we can break the block out this afternoon and be on our way back to Kubyab before nightfall. Once there, I think we can count on the good squire for help. Meanwhile, the charming little Doctor Dyckman had better catch up on her sleep."
"Aristide!" she said sharply. "I hate it when people call me 'little'! I'm a hundred and seventy centimeters, which is well over average height for American women."
"A thousand pardons, my lit—my tall dear."
An hour later, Alicia was asleep in the Terrans' tent. Reith and Marot, stripped to shorts and boots, worked on the excavation along with the two Krishnans. Although Roqir was still hidden by the overcast, the day turned steamy-hot. To aggravate their problems, a few centimeters below the surface, the ruddy sandstone became harder and more resistant to the picks, slowing the excavation.
Reith stepped back for a breath, drew his forearm across his sweat-bathed forehead, and looked up. "More visitors!" he exclaimed.
Two riders in wide straw sombreros approached at a gallop. One was the shaihan-herd whom Sainian had posted at Foltz's camp; the other, Warren Foltz.
As they neared the excavation, Foltz pulled his aya to a halt with a savage jerk, sprang to earth, and tossed the reins to the shaihan-herd. Reith noted that Foltz wore his sword. Reith felt for his own and then realized with dismay that it was back in his tent. He cursed himself for stupidity.
Foltz stepped close to Reith, barking: "Where's Alicia?"
"What business is that of yours?" said Reith. "She's my woman, that's what business it is, and I'll have her back!"
"She's nobody's woman. She can go where she likes and live with whom she pleases."
"Oh, yeah?" said Foltz. "We'll see about that." He looked around. "I'll bet she's in one of those tents. I'm taking her back, and don't anybody try to stop me if he knows what's good for him!"
"What saith the Terran?" asked Girej. "We want no part of this dispute."
Foltz turned and started for the tents. Reith bounded around and got in front of him. "Keep away from those tents!"
"Gentlemen!" said Marot. "You must not carry this further. Fergus is correct about the rights of Doctor Dyckman."
"Out of my way, Reith!" snarled Foltz, drawing his sword and pointing it at Reith's naked midriff. "I don't want to kill you, particularly; but if you try to stop me I will!"
Reith spied Marot's Marsh pick lying on the red, pebble-dotted soil. He snatched up the tool and again confronted Foltz.
"Think you can fight with that? Ha!" said Foltz. "Okay, sucker, don't say I didn't warn you!" He threw himself forward in a fencing lunge.
Reith parried the lunge with the head of the Marsh pick, batting the blade aside with a clang. He tried to get in a return blow at Foltz's head, but the awkward implement moved too slowly in his hands. He had to whip it around to parry another thrust. Then came another, which he barely avoided.
Reith was aware of movement behind Foltz. He was watching his antagonist too closely to note peripheral details but heard a solid thump. Warren Foltz swayed and collapsed, his sword clattering on the pebbles. Marot stood behind the fallen man, holding in both hands his geologist's hammer.
Reith knelt to examine the body. A wound on Foltz's scalp oozed blood, but his pulse was regular. Reith cautiously probed the scalp around the wound; there was no indication of a broken skull.
"What'll we do with him?" said Reith. "I'd like to cut the bastard's throat, but I suppose that would cause more trouble than it's worth. Besides, it wouldn't seem right."
Marot replied: "I suggest that we tie and gag him until we are ready to depart."
The shaihan-herd, who still sat his mount, spoke: "Sirs, what do ye? My master told me not to meddle in the privy quarrels amongst the Terrans. At the same time, I was to succor Master Folt when, because of 's ignorance, he got into trouble. Lives he yet?"
"He lives," said Reith. "He'll probably recover—perhaps in an hour or two."
"I'll take care of him," said the shaihan-herd. "Pray hold these."
As he spoke, the Krishnan dismounted and handed the reins of the two ayas to Reith and Marot. He picked up the unconscious Foltz and slung him across his saddle, so that his head and arms hung down on one side and his legs on the other. With the lariat that had been coiled on his own saddle, the shaihan-herd secured Foltz in place. Then he remounted, took both sets of reins, and set out at a walk. The two animals passed over the nearest rise and out of sight.
"Thanks, Aristide," said Reith. "He'd have let daylight into me otherwise."
Marot shrugged. "What is a friend for? But I do not know that we were clever to let that cowboy take him away. We should have tied him up and kept him here until we left, as I proposed."
"I'm afraid you're right. When the Krishnan took over, I didn't think fast enough."
"But look," said Marot. "The day is more than half gone, and the weather does not look good. Let us return to our muttons."
"Belt on your sword! We've got to wear them and sleep with them, even when they're in the way."
Alicia appeared at the entrance to the tent and came towards them, moving briskly even though the signs of her recent encounter with Foltz were still visible. "Has anything happened while I slept?" she asked.
"Grand dieu, has anything happened!" exclaimed Marot. "We had a visit from your former employer, who tried to kill Fergus."
"What?"
"Let Fergus tell you the tale. Me, I must push some more work from these soi-disant workers."
Marot turned back to the dig. Reith, who had been examining Foltz's sword, narrated the events of the man's visit. Alicia cried:
"Oh, you beast! Why didn't you wake me up, at least after the Frenchman stunned him?"
"If you'd been here, darling, you might have gotten between us and been run through by Foltz or whacked with my pick. So it's just as well."