In time, Mjipa found the waterfront and followed it westward until Vuzhov's Tower loomed out of the night. Mjipa approached the cleared area around the tower cautiously, keeping piles of rubble between him and the structure. In an ordinary tone of voice, Isayin said: "How do you propose—"
"Hush!" snarled Mjipa. "Don't talk above a whisper!"
"Now, Master Mjipa, you may be a Terran official and all that, but it gives you no right—"
"If you don't shut up, I'll throttle you!" Mjipa extended large black hands with clutching fingers spread. "Now keep behind me. There may be a watchman."
Little by little, Mjipa worked his way forward to the edge of the graded area around the base of the tower. His eyes, adapted to the moonlight, picked out two figures standing before the main door. In place of the gilded soldiers of the daytime, these were plainly clad and painted watchmen, armed with pikes. Snatches of talk between them floated to Mjipa's ears.
"Damn it to Hishkak!" he breathed. "One I could take care of; but two ..."
Presently one of the figures parted from the other and started to walk around the tower. Mjipa turned over various schemes. A single watchman he could engage in talk until he got close enough to knock the fellow cold. Had he been rescuing a fellow Terran, he might have been willing to kill a guard; but he thought it absurd to slay one Krishnan native in order to save another.
But supposing he knocked out one watchman while the other was making a periodical circuit; what then? The latter would return to find his partner unconscious and raise an alarm. If Mjipa had brought a flask of kvad, doped with a soporific, he might persuade both watchmen to partake; but he had no such provision. The bottle of falat in Isayin's bag would give the Krishnans no more than a pleasant glow. Mjipa cursed himself for not more carefully thinking through the watchman problem.
"Why wait you?" said Isayin in a stage whisper. "Art afeared?"
"One more word like that, and I will drag you back to the prison. Now shut up! I'm thinking."
At last the consul roused himself, saying: "Get back behind that pile of rubbish and see what you can find that burns. Keep your head down."
The two backed off to a safer distance and began to rummage in the rubble for bits of wood. Mjipa also gathered a few scraps of cloth and paper. He worked largely by touch, since the light of the moons was not strong enough to see the rubbish clearly.
When Mjipa had a good armful, he told Isayin:"Stay here. Move not unless someone is about to discover you."
Mjipa loped off, making a wide detour around the tower to keep out of sight of the watchmen. On the far side, he stacked his fuel, added a few more pieces he picked up nearby, whittled some slivers of wood for kindling with his dagger, and got out his piston lighter. To start his fire, he sacrificed the pass that Chanapar had given him to Isayin's cell, since he did not expect to have further use for it.
Once his fire was blazing against the base of the tower, Mjipa retraced his steps around the tower and back to where Isayin crouched. They waited.
Presently one of the watchmen stretched, yawned, and set out on a circumambulation of the tower. He had hardly disappeared around the curve of the masonry when he reappeared, running. Mjipa heard him calclass="underline" "Vichum! Come quickly!" Both guards vanished around the tower.
Mjipa jerked Isayin's cloak and set out with long strides to the front doors, drawing the key from his wallet. The key turned with a squeak, and the doors came open.
"Inside!" hissed Mjipa.
They stumbled about in the dark until Mjipa found the foot of the spiral stair. He led Isayin up, the latter barking his shins and complaining. At the third floor, Mjipa felt along the wall until he came to the door of the disused tool room. He pushed Isayin inside. The light, coming through a square, unpaned window in the brickwork, was better than that in the stair well.
"Here you are," said the consul. "You have food for a day, and the hammer and wedge to secure the door. Knock the wedge in under the bottom, so somebody doesn't open the door in a fit of curiosity. There's no bolt on this side to keep it closed.
"Keep quiet, and it's unlikely anyone will discover you. Give me that cloak. Tomorrow night, if all goes well, I shall come to take you to the ship."
"Why wended we not to the ship directly?"
"Because the ship does not sail till the day after tomorrow."
"You could bribe the captain to hide me aboard."
"And suppose he called the authorities, either before or after pocketing my coin? The more persons who know, the better the chances of betrayal.
"Besides, it's known that Mistress Dyckman and I plan to sail on the Tarvezid. If the palace discovered your disappearance, that's one of the first places they'd look." When the Kalwmian opened his mouth as if to protest further, Mjipa firmly continued: "Remember your instructions. Keep back from the window and out of sight. Make no more noise than you can help."
Mjipa peered out the window. Below, the two watchmen were still stamping out the remains of his fire. The consul left the tool room, closed the door behind him, and trotted down the dark stairway. He opened the front door a crack to make sure the watchmen had not yet returned. Then he slipped out, relocked the door, and ran until he was out of sight of the tower.
Mjipa managed this time to find his way back to the inn without getting lost. But he had an uneasy feeling of being followed. Several times he thought he heard stealthy footsteps; but when he stopped, hand on hilt and eyes searching the shadows, the ghostly patter also ceased. At length he decided that he was hearing the echo of his own footsteps against the walls, augmented by an aroused imagination; but he still moved cautiously.
When Mjipa regained Irants's Inn, the sky was paling. He had hardly entered when an agitated Irants confronted him, with Alicia. Both spoke at once, in Khaldoni and English respectively, until Mjipa said: "Please, please! One at a time. You first, Lish."
"We had a terrible night," she said. "It was a little past midnight when a whole gang—perhaps the same as those who were looking for us in Yein—burst in."
"Zhamanacians, forsooth," put in Irants. "Stert-naked and shaven-polled, and speaking with that foul accent."
"How many?" asked Mjipa.
"Belike fifteen or twenty," said Irants. "I never saw all together, to tally the total."
Alicia continued:"They told Irants they were looking for a pair of Terrans and described us. He denied having seen us—"
"My thanks," said Mjipa to Irants. "I'll remember this when we pay our scot."
"—and sent his daughter upstairs to warn me. I told Minyev to move my gear into your room and say he was a traveling peddler. Then Eliuv—that's the daughter—opened the trapdoor to the attic and sent me up the ladder.
"Soon I heard them stamping around and roaring below, swearing they recognized the Terran smell. I think I heard the voice of Verar, that noisy envoy King Khorosh sent to extradite us. After a while they left, but a couple stayed outside in the street, watching. Didn't you see them on your way in?"
"No," said Mjipa. "I was rather tired, and there were others in the street on their way to work. But I think I should have noticed loungers of that sort. What happened to Minyev?"
"That coward! He listened carefully to what I said, saying 'Yes, madam; I understand, madam.' Then the minute Eliuv boosted me into the attic, he climbed out the window, dropped to the alley below, and ran for dear life. He hasn't been seen since."
"My daughter came upon him as he was climbing out," said Irants. "She asked him what betid, and he muttered something about this soup's being too rich for his palate."
Mjipa grinned."Can't say I blame the chap. We have been running a hectic Grand National of late, and it's not really his fight. But I say, let's have a look to see if they're still out there. O Master Irants, your bedroom overlooks the front, does it not?"