Etienne idly noted the architecture as they worked their way closer to the central square. No grand stone towers here. This wasn’t Po Rabi. Most of the buildings were of wood, thatch, mud, and adobe, though several did soar to the impressive height of three stories. He did not admire them, however. Hochac’s prosperity was tainted and it throve by taking from its neighbors. Perhaps tonight they could redress a few of those wrongs, make the inhabitants reconsider their methods. He hoped he’d be given that opportunity. Lyra would disapprove of his attitude, he knew, but right now he didn’t much care. He watched her coolly making notes and couldn’t help but admire her. If they died here tonight, no one could say they’d neglected their research right up to the final moment.
They were halfway to the central square when they stumbled into a pair of sober locals. They looked very young and Etienne regretted having to pull his pistol. He was too slow and could have saved his regrets. Once again Tyl and his companions did their work with quiet efficiency. There were no screams and no deaths, though a single brief warning shout was lost in the shouting and chanting.
They were surprised when the arrow thudded into Swd’s side. The short thick fur absorbed some of the arrow’s force, but not enough to keep the porter from staggering up against Tyl. He struggled with the shaft as they sought cover beneath the overhang of a large house.
The archer stood on the porch of a building across the street. He was waving his bow toward the square now, jumping up and down and screaming high and steady. To Etienne’s chagrin, Homat stepped out into clear sight to return the local’s steady stream of expletives. While personally gratifying, this was a lousy tactical move. The celebrants in the square heard the row, turned to see the odd assortment of intruders, and had enough presence of mind left to scatter and sound the warning throughout the village.
A few located their own weapons and began to advance. Bows and arrows and spears might be primitive, but as the unfortunate Swd could attest, they were often as effective as any modern weapon. The differences between asynapt and arrow were neatness and convenience, not lethality. Add to that the fact that in seconds they were likely to be heavily outnumbered and there was little humor to be found in Homat’s foolhardy posturing.
Wishing he was closer, Etienne cupped hands to mouth and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Execute Command Red-Ten!” Then he lowered the muzzle of his asynapt and fired at the feet of the nearest onrushing Hochacite. The Mai let out a yelp and fell on his face, paralyzed from the knees down.
That halted the charge for a few seconds, long enough for an answering rumble to rise from the central square. The rest of the attacking villagers turned and stared over their shoulders.
Lit from beneath by the dancing bonfires, the hydrofoil made a most impressive sight as it rose four meters into the air on activated repellers, lifting the wooden cage with it. It executed a slow pirouette until it was facing the direction from which the command had been given, locked in on Etienne’s eyes, and started to move toward them. As it did so the downward facing air jets on which it hovered blasted flaming fagots of wood in all directions, scattering fire and natives alike. The movement caused the wooden cage to begin to break up, showering logs and planks down on the scurrying Mai.
X 
Those Hochacites who were sober started screaming about spirits and devils as they flung their weapons aside and bolted for the nearest cover. Homat retreated to rejoin his companions, his eyes wide and locked on the hovering bulk of the spirit boat as it drifted toward them.
Lyra had to give him a shove to start him back toward the stockade gate. “Back to the harbor, everybody, before they get over the shock!”
Moving as fast as possible without conveying the impression of a hasty retreat, the intruders fled with studied dignity. Now and then a face would peek out at them as they passed along the street, but a burst from an asynaptic pistol would cause doors and windows to slam shut quickly.
They reached the narrow gate and filed quickly through it. Unable to quite clear the crest of the palisade, the hydrofoil made a satisfyingly loud smashing and crackling as it splintered several of the massive logs.
Etienne and the Tsla remained behind to guard the landward end of a pier while Lyra directed the boat over the water before retracting her husband’s order. The hydrofoil settled gently into the Skar. Bending low to avoid an intact section of wooden cage, she stepped aboard.
From his position facing the town wall, Etienne was gratified to hear the start-up growl of the engine as power was transferred from repellers to jet. A few armed Mai had pushed through the gap in the stockade, but hadn’t gained the courage to charge. As soon as word came that the boat was acting like a boat once more, some of the initial terror of its unboatlike behavior would fade and the Hochacites would try to recover it. Etienne had no intention of giving them that kind of time. “Now, Tyl! Get your people on board before the Mai have time to regroup!” Even as Etienne backpedaled to cover the Tsla’s retreat, the bolder villagers slowly advanced.
Lyra made a quick head count and spun the wheel as she nudged the accelerator. The hydrofoil varoomed out into the safety of the Skar, but not as fast as Etienne wanted. The unwieldy remnants of the cage prevented the boat from rising up on its hydrofoils. Distant shouts sounded from Hochac’s harbor; pursuit was being organized.
Among the ship’s tools was a heat stitch that could cut and weld. It made short work of the leather thongs that bound the sections of the wooden cage together. As Etienne sliced the thongs the Tsla heaved the heavy timbers over the side, and a few arrows thunked against the rear of the boat. Finally, with a loud splash the undersection of the cage gave way and drifted astern. The pursuing Mai were still within insult range but by now even Homat was too tired to respond.
Etienne stumbled to the intercom. “We’re clear, Lyra. Raise her up.”
The nimble of the electric jet became a whine as the boat rose above the surface on its twin foils and rocketed Upriver at a leisurely sixty kph, leaving the Tsla whispering their wonderment to one another and the frustrated Hochacites far behind.
“Wonderful, delicious,” Tyl muttered as he peeked hesitantly over the side. “The boat flies over the water. You must explain to me how it works.”
Etienne stiffened, relaxed almost as quickly. Tyl’s words had sparked bad memories of Irquit and the ease with which she’d mastered the hydrofoil’s security system. But there was no deception in this philosopher-teacher. Etienne felt guilty at his instinctive suspicion.
“Be happy to, Tyl. You’re entitled to learn about what you’ve just rescued. I’ll try and explain the principles to you and you must tell me more about what we’re likely to encounter Upriver, especially this Topapasirut that has you so concerned.”
“I will gladly do so, Etienne. But as for the Topapasirut there is little to say. It must be seen to be understood.”
“Still certain we can’t surmount it?”
“I still think so, yes, but after seeing what you have achieved tonight I am less certain than I was before.”
That is faintly encouraging, Etienne mused. Further discussion would have to wait until morning. He longed desperately for the softness of his air-conditioned bunk. Lyra could drive for another half hour. Then they’d be far enough Upriver from any lingering pursuit to put the boat on autopilot.
At last they were on their way again, though he felt no pride in the thoroughly unprofessional but necessary diversion for which the inhabitants of Hochac were responsible. With any luck that would be the first and last interruption of its kind.
As for allowing the Tsla into the cabin, that was a necessity. They would be much more comfortable inside, where the temperature approximated that of their home. There was no fear in him. For one thing he was too tired. For another, he’d slept peacefully among the Tsla for weeks. They’d earned his trust. Besides, he and Lyra could always lock themselves in their cabin, and no curious Tsla could disengage a locked autopilot.
The morning dawned bright, hot, and stinking humid but Etienne sat comfortably alongside Lyra in the little dining nook. Tyl squatted on the floor nearby. The porters ate farther astern, in the storage area that had been turned into their living quarters. They could have joined the humans but chose not to. Etienne asked why, confident it would have some bearing on his question.
“They’re ashamed,” Tyl explained.
“Ah.” Lyra looked satisfied. Apparently she’d been thinking along similar lines. “Because they had to fight?”
“Oh no.” Tyl nibbled at his bowl, his stubby six-fingered hands probing for solid morsels. The Redowls had already overcome their distaste at seeing a Tsla rummage for food with its long snout. “They are. ashamed because they were not permitted to fulfill their intentions.”
“But they did,” Etienne argued. “We’re safe and we recovered our boat.”
“Yes, but no thanks to us.”
“You dispatched that patrol at the harbor.”
“It was our intention to assist thee during the entire process, Etienne. Yet we could only stand helplessly by and watch while this wondrous craft,” and he tapped the metal floor, “did more to save itself than did we.”
“But you couldn’t have done more than you did,” Lyra told him. “We barely had enough time to activate the voice pickup.”
“That is not the point. We know we could not have carried this boat to the river on our shoulders, but we did not have the chance to try. Therefore merit was lost because we did not have the opportunity to vanquish our enemy.”
Lyra looked uncomfortable. “It’s my understanding that your society is a pacifistic one.”
“Of course, that is true.”
