Barnevelt heard Zakkomir at his side start as he digested this demand. Barnevelt thought: How about the famous Osirian pseudohypnosis? Sheafase might have worked it on Shtain and now want to get hold of George Tangaloa and himself to apply it to them, thus neatly ending their investigation of the Sunqar and, furthermore, making thrifty use of them by turning them into Sunqaro pirates. Or, more likely, Shtain had been subjected to the treatment before he left Earth, to make him docile.
"I think that's all…" said Sheafase.
Barnevelt spoke up. "We haven't seen the princess, sir."
"So you haven't. Who, think you, is in a position to make demands?"
"Wait," said the short Krishnan addressed as 'Urgan. " 'Tis not unreasonable, and won't hurt us. If we refuse, the harridan will think we've fed her daughter to the fondaqa, and negotiations will drag on forever while she tries to learn the truth."
He of the poncho said: "Let's decide quickly, for my dinner cools."
After a brief confab among the bosses of the Morya
Sunqaruma, the adjutant opened the door and spoke to the man on guard. Barnevelt heard the latter's footsteps going away.
"May we smoke while waiting?" asked Barnevelt.
Receiving permission, he passed his cigars around. Everybody took one except the Osirian. To help conceal his emotions, Barnevelt lit his stogie on the nearest lamp, drawing long puffs from it. Outside the twilight faded.
Footsteps approached again. The door opened, and in came Shtain, holding Zei firmly by the arm. Barnevelt thought his heart would burst through his chest, mailshirt and all. She still had on the flimsy tunic she had been wearing the night of the kashyo festival, though the coronet and other ornaments had disappeared, no doubt into Sheafase's treasury.
Barnevelt heard Zei's breath catch as she recognized the "couriers," but like a good trouper she said nothing. Barnevelt and Zakkomir each touched a knee to the floor in the perfunctory manner in which one would expect a busy expressman to pay homage to captive royalty. The adjutant briefly explained the circumstances to her.
While the time for action was fast approaching, thought Barnevelt, the presence of Shtain would complicate matters. Barnevelt couldn't very well turn to Zakkomir, standing tense beside him, and say aloud: "When the time comes, don't kill the Earthman. Just knock him cold because he's really a friend of mine."
He moved, as though from sheer restlessness, to place himself between Shtain and Zakkomir.
Shtain, looking up at his face as he passed, said: "Have I not met you elsewhere, courier?"
As Dirk's heart rose into his mouth, Shtain turned away, muttering: "Some chance resemblance, I suppose…"
Barnevelt almost laughed aloud at the sound of his chief's speaking Gozashtandou with a thick Russian accent. Phonetics was not the intrepid Igor's strong point.
"Tell my lady mother," said Zei, "that I'm sound of wind, limb, and maidenhood and have not been ill-treated, albeit the cookery of this swamp-city makes a poor showing in comparison with ours in Ghulinde."
"We hear and obey, O Princess," said Barnevelt. He scratched his person in the groin region and turned to Sheafase: "Our mission seems to be accomplished, lord, and therefore if you'll let us take aboard some drinking water we'll push off. Time is passing…"
Barnevelt had continued to scratch, and now to compound his ungentlemanly behavior he reached inside the lower edge of his shorts, at the same time taking a big drag on his cigar. His hand came out of his pants-leg grasping one of the smoke-bombs, which had been strapped to his thigh. With a quick motion he applied the fuze to his cigar until it fizzed.
Then, with the bomb still in his fist, he swung a terrific uppercut at Shtain's jaw.
The blow connected with a meaty sound, and the explorer slammed back against the wall and slid into a sitting position. Then Barnevelt tossed the bomb to the floor and reached down inside his boot for the little folding sword. Zakkomir had already whipped out his.
Barnevelt straightened his blade with a click of the latch just as the bomb went off with a swoosh, filling the room with smoke, and the remaining Sunqaruma burst into cries of warning and alarm and reached for their own weapons.
Nearest to Barnevelt, now that Shtain had been disposed of, stood the adjutant, drawing his sword. This weapon was only just out of its sheath when Barnevelt's lunge went home, the blade sliding between the ribs and going in until stopped by the hinge. Barnevelt jerked it out just in time to meet the attack of Igor Shtain, who had gotten back on his feet, coughing from the smoke and shaking his head, and now pressed forward. Although not much of a fencer, Shtain swung his cutlass with a force that threatened to break Barnevelt's little toy at every parry. Moreover he had the advantage that Barnevelt was trying not to kill him, while he labored under no such inhibition.
The short Krishnan, the one called Urgan, had been quick to reach for his hilt, but Zei seized his right wrist and hung on before he could get his blade free. He had finally thrown her off, but then Zakkomir's point had taken him in the throat. Then Zakkomir was engaged with the man in the poncho, both coughing.
Barnevelt cast a longing glance at the sword of the man he had killed, wishing he could snatch it up in place of the one he was using, but he had no chance to do so. Shtain was driving him into a corner. In desperation he threw himself into a corps-d-corps and struck with his free fist at Shtain's jaw, hoping to knock his man out. Shtain's jaw, however, seemed to be made of some granite-like substance. In fighting with Shtain, Barnevelt realized that the slight advantage he had over Krishnans, in consequence of having been brought up on a planet with a gravity about one-tenth greater, was cancelled out.
Sheafase, who alone of the males in the room was not armed, came around behind Zakkomir and seized his arms. The man with the poncho lunged. Zakkomir, though pinioned, managed to deflect the first thrust. On the remise the man in the poncho got home, but Zakkomir's mailshirt stopped the point, the blade bending upward into an arch. Sheafase tightened his grip. The man in the poncho drew back his arm and aimed for Zakkomir's undefended throat.
However, Zei had picked up a light chair that stood in a corner and now brought it down on Poncho's head. The man drooped like a wilted lily. A second blow brought him to hands and knees, and a third flattened him. Zakkomir continued to struggle to get loose from Sheafase.
Barnevelt, still straining in his corps-a-corps, pushed SKtain off balance with his shoulder. As Shtain staggered, Barnevelt got a grip around his body with his left arm and freed his blade. The silver helmet went glonk as Shtain struck it with his cutlass. Then Barnevelt brought his right fist, which still held his sword, into action. A series of punches to the ribs, the jaw, the neck, and a final blow to the head with the brass pommel brought down Shtain for good.
Barnevelt whirled and leaped to Zakkomir's assistance. From the other side Zei had already whanged the Osirian in the ribs with the chair. As Barnevelt stepped around the plotting-table, Sheafase tried to swing Zakkomir's body as a shield. But Barnevelt reached around his companion and thrust his point into the scaly hide. Not far: a centimeter or two. As Sheafase backed up with a shrill hiss, Barnevelt followed, saying: "Behave yourself, worm, or I'll kill you too."
"You cannot," said Sheafase. You are under my influence. You are getting sleepy. You shall drop your sword. I am your master. You shall obey my commands…"