Reith awoke with a pounding headache and found a bandage around his head. He lay on a camp cot in a large tent among other wounded, some of whose bandages were stained with blue-green Krishnan blood. A Krishnan whom Reith recognized as the Mikardando army surgeon spoke to him as from a distance.
"How feel ye, Sir Fergus?"
"Not so well as yesterday. Who won?"
"We did, good my sir. Had we not, ye were dead. The fell of the Kamoran—"
"You mean we killed the old savage?"
"Aye; 'twas the Terran, Master Fodor, who slew him."
"And Fodor?"
"Slain, too, alas. But he took a parcel of barbarians to Hishkak with him. That, together with the charge of the garrison from Kandakh at the nomads' rear, broke their spirit. Many were slain, and the rest fled like leaves before the blast. Thanks to our armor, we lost but twain besides your Master Fodor."
Reith sighed. "Poor Fodor! Always talking of the glories of barbaric battle. He got more than he bargained for; but perhaps he died happy. Any other hurts among the Terrans?"
"Master Ames hath sustained a wrenched shoulder in felling off his mount, while Master Strachan suffered a grievous leg wound. Your Terran physician, that Doctor Mas'udi, hath removed him to's own tent."
"What day is this?" asked Reith.
" 'Tis the even of the battle, at the thirteenth hour. Excuse me, pray, whilst I fetch your Terran leech. I dare not treat you, for that your organs internal differ from ours."
Mas'udi opined: "Fergus, I want you to stay quiet in bed another day; you may have a concussion. You've had nine stitches."
Reith gingerly felt his scalp through the bandages. Then he sat up purposefully. "No, doc, I feel pretty good. If I get woozy, I'll come back. Right now I want to find my—my—"
"Your friend—your fiancée, Doctor Dyckman. She's been in and out of the tent ever since we put you here, waiting for you to wake. At last I told her to get out and stay out; she needs some rest, too."
"Okay, where are my clothes?"
Mas'udi clucked and argued, but Reith was determined despite his throbbing head. He hurriedly dressed and left the hospital tent. Night had fallen; but the camp was well lit by cookfires, torches, and two of the three Krishnan moons.
Sounds of an altercation drew Reith's attention. Pushing through a gathering crowd, he saw Anthony Fallon in heated discussion with the two colonels. Nearby he perceived two kneeling men: Stavrakos and another Terran, the gasser or lighting manager Olson. Both were stripped to the waist, with hands bound behind them. Over them stood a Krishnan trooper leaning on a broad-bladed, two-handed sword.
Reith ran, even though the movement sent shooting pains through his skull. "Hold everything! What's up?" he shouted.
Fallon said: "Fergus! Our commanders here want to cut off a couple of heads: the blokes who galloped away from the fighting. Can't say I blame the colonels— cowardice in the face of the enemy—but we can't have that sort of thing done to our fellow Earthlings if we can help it."
"Will they take money for compensation? Stavrakos has plenty."
"No. They say it would ruin discipline, if anybody would buy his way out of a charge."
"I have an idea," said Reith. He came close to the colonels and spoke in low tones. The officers walked off a little way, conferring and arguing. At last they came back, making the affirmative head motion and breaking into smiles. Reith walked slowly towards the culprits, looking grave; he did not intend to let them off too easily.
"Please, Fergus!" cried Stavrakos, his voice a terrified squeak. "Get me out of this! I'll do anything for you! Come to Montecito, and I'll get you money, broads, dope, anything you want!"
"I may be able to get you off, on one condition," said Reith.
"Anything! What condition?"
"They'll let you and Olson go—for the time being anyway—on condition that you give both colonels significant parts in the movie. Motilal can change the script tonight. You can run off takes in a few says and dub in the dialogue back on Earth. Okay?"
"Yes, yes, that's wonderful!" gasped Stavrakos. "Just have 'em cut these damned ropes, will you? How much do I pay you, personally?"
"What?" exclaimed Reith, incredulously.
"I said, how much must I give you, for yourself, for springing me?"
"Gods of Krishna!" said Reith. "Did you think I'd extort money as the price of your worthless life?"
"Well—all—it's what I'd do in your place."
"You mercenary son of a bitch! You think I'm the same sort of louse you are?" He spoke to the headsman. "Cut their ropes."
Stavrakos rose with a grunt, rubbing arms scored by rope marks. He shook his head in a puzzled way. "Well— ah—I thought you were a practical man."
"You and I look at things differently," snapped Reith, turning away. He started for Fodor's former tent, into which he and Alicia had moved their things. As he neared the tent, however, a singular sight assailed his eyes.
Cyril Ordway, wearing only a khaki shirt and slippers, ran out of the tent, pursued by Alicia Dyckman, clad in riding breeches and shirt but barefoot, and swinging a sword. Being faster than the bulky Ordway, she caught up with him, tripped him, and stood over him as he sprawled prone.
"You lie there," Alicia cried in her clear soprano, "or I'll cut your damned head off!"
With the point of the sword, she raised the tail of Ordway's shirt, exposing his fat buttocks. Then she swung the sword in both hands and brought the flat of the blade down on Ordway's fundament.
Ordway grunted. Up went the sword, and down again. At the third blow, Ordway uttered a little cry. At the sixth, he began whimper: "Alicia! That hurts! Please! I'll never bother you again!"
Alicia continued her merciless bastinado until Ordway's buttocks were red in the firelight and oozing blood. "Now get up and get out!" she snapped.
Ordway crawled a few paces, then rose and hobbled towards his tent.
"Darling!" said Reith. "My Valkyrie!"
Alicia gave him a hug. Reaching their new quarters, Reith sat down, rested his chin on his fist, and asked: "What the hell did that two-legged cockroach do?"
"When Doc Hamid chased me away from your bedside, I came back here, meaning to snatch some sleep," she explained. "I was bushed after that breakneck ride to the fort. I'd just taken off my boots when Old Repulsive came in wearing that sword the Krishnans lent him for the battle. I suppose he thought it made him look heroic; though from what I hear, you, Ken, Randal, Tony, and Attila were the only ones who actually crossed swords with the invaders. Randal killed one of the Kamoran's bodyguards, and Tony says he cut another one but doesn't know how much harm he did in the confusion. After Attila drilled the Kamoran, his people's one thought was to get him away, since they didn't know whether he was wounded or dead.
"Anyway, Cyril sat down and poured sweet talk over me like syrup on a waffle. I was his ideal of womanhood, and why hadn't he met me sooner—his same old line. He insisted on calling me 'Lady Alicia'; you know how he is about tides. Then he unbuckled his sword and slithered up close, if you can imagine a stuffed pigeon like Cyril slithering.
"He said he knew I was yours; but he loved me, too; and soon he'd never see me again, and I could make him the happiest man in the world, and it was such a small parting gift to ask, and it wasn't as if I were a virgin, and how marvelous he was at rogering, as he calls it I kept pushing his hands away.