“The meditator said much the same thing. I take my own reward, Lyra. I want to take back as much sunit as the spirit boat will hold. We will make room by throwing out the useless things you have gathered during this journey, bits of plants and rocks and clothing and cheap trinkets.”
“Homat, you can’t! We need to take samples of your world back for study.”
“You don’t listen, Lyra. What is important to you does not matter now. It doesn’t matter that your civilization is smarter than that of the Mai. It doesn’t matter that you are smarter than me, though I am not so sure of that anymore. It does not matter that you are larger and stronger. This is all that matters now.” He gestured with the asynaptic pistol. “I have not touched it since we fought the Na. It slew the meditator. I am certain it can slay you. This is something even we simple Mai can understand.”
“Irquit wasn’t the Zanur’s representative,” Etienne said accusingly. “It was you all the time.”
“Oh, no, Etienne, she was a representative of the Zanur. We both were. But she was in charge over me, and I couldn’t have that. I did not need her around, watching as I made careful study of your magic. I knew we would fail at Chan-grit.”
“So you’re a traitor then. To your city-state of Po Rabi, to your Zanur, to your Najoke de-me-Halmur.”
Homat dug his toes into the ground, a sign of disrespectful disgust. “From this moment on Najoke de-me-Halmur is nothing. He is become less than the grains of gravel that roll from the mouth of this cave, less than the droppings of the prewq upon the fields. The Zanur is become nothing. Po Rabi itself is as nothing beside the wealth that lies here. If I choose I will buy Po Rabi for a winter home. I will be Moyt over all.”
Lyra fought to restrain her temper. “Now listen, Homat. Maybe you can operate that pistol without burning your foot off, but running the spirit boat is another matter entirely.”
“Is it so? I have watched for a long time now while you thought me shivering and cowering behind you for protection. Already I have steered the spirit boat once. I think truly it is not so complicated to use. A very few controls run it mostly, and one allows the spirits within to run by themselves.”
“Even an autopilot needs occasional instructions.”
“Does it? I think you try to deceive me. We will see.”
“And what happens,” Etienne pressed him, “if we don’t return and our friends come looking for us? They’ll find the boat and they’ll find you.”
“Perhaps. If they do I will shiver and cower some delighted more and explain that you were slain by the Na and that I, Homat, not knowing what else to do, was returning the spirit boat to its rightful owners. I think they will let me keep the sunit and award me honors for my bravery and dedication.”
“Even assuming you could run the boat,” Lyra said, “how can you get it past the Topapasirut without the help of the Tsla of Jakaie?”
“I think they will believe my story also. If they are reluctant to believe, there are other ways.” He gestured past them toward the mountain of metal. “The Tsla are also traders. They are not immune to the promise of great wealth. Not all the hairy ones sit and meditate their lives away. They work hard in their shops and fields and when they come down to the Skar, wealth changes hands. And there is another reason why I know this can be done.”
“Another reason?”
“An elderly merchant of Po Rabi preceded us to this place. Without lightning throwers, without this wondrous delighted clothing you have given me, without a spirit boat, he came to this place, stood perhaps on this same spot, and returned to Po Rabi with proof that he had done so. With all your wonders at my command, I cannot fail to do as well.
“But why this talk of your not returning? I bear you no malice, and I need your strength to load the sunit into the spirit boat. Then we will see. It would be easier if you agreed to help me return to the Skatandah. Perhaps I will even let you keep your boat. You will not have the useless rocks and weeds that you have gathered, but you will still have the magic images you make of them.
“One thing is certain: you have no other choice but to help me. If you do not, it will take longer to load the sunit with the help of only this simple one,” he gestured toward Yulour, “but it will be done nonetheless. And I will surely kill you.”
“Yulour and I will help load your precious sunit,” Lyra said bitterly, “but Etienne cannot. If he does much lifting he stands a good chance of reopening the wound inside him.”
“If he does that you can fix it again.”
“I don’t think it can be fixed again, at least not in the same way with the tools we have on the boat.”
“He works like you and the Tsla or he dies now. I cannot spare the attention to let him sit and watch for a chance to surprise me.”
Etienne limped forward. “I’ll watch myself, Lyra, don’t worry. I can rig a sling and work with my left arm.”
“Our specimens,” she muttered disconsolately. “Everything we’ve worked so hard to assemble, the first pieces of the puzzle that would enable us to start building a picture of this world’s ecology, all thrown away.”
“They won’t do us any good if we don’t live to deliver them.”
“Not so stupid,” Homat said approvingly. “I didn’t think you were that stupid.” He gestured again with the muzzle of the asynapt. “I do not like this place. Let us hurry.”
Though he worked very carefully, the pain in Etienne’s side never let him alone. The internal bleeding didn’t start again, but Lyra ached in her own heart as she watched him struggle to load the heavy alloy.
Homat supervised the loading silently and displayed not a twinge of remorse. The lower hold was filled and they began stacking piles of broken metal on the second deck. Yulour carried twice his share of the load as he toiled quietly next to his human friends.
Several days later an exhausted Lyra, sweating inside her absorptive thermal suit, slumped to the ground and spoke sullenly to Homat.
“That’s all she’ll carry.”
“No, there is yet room,” Homat insisted. “Much more room. You must continue.”
“Listen to me, Homat. The sunit, the metal, is very heavy. If you stack any more on the upper decks you’ll ruin the boat’s stability. All the sunit in the world won’t do you any good if you turn over in the middle of the Skar.” She held her breath as she dropped her gaze to the ground. Actually the hydrofoil could carry another ton or so in comparative safety, but she doubted Etienne would last another day.
Homat looked uncertain. “Very well. That is enough. Enough to buy two cities, and I can always come back for more.”
“Fine,” Etienne commented. “Now let us help you deliver your damned fortune so we can go our separate ways, which won’t happen soon enough for me.”
“Or if you insist on trying to take the hydrofoil back by yourself,” Lyra added, “at least let us go with you as far as Turput. We can find transportation back to Steamer Station from there, and by the time we reached our outpost you could be halfway around the Groalamasan.”
“And then what?” Homat inquired suspiciously, his inherent Mai paranoia surging to the fore. “Then you’ll organize your friends and come looking for poor Homat with more of your strange weapons, to punish him and steal his glory.” His grip on the asynapt tightened.
Slowly Lyra got to her feet. “Homat, don’t be a fool.”
“Truly that is not my intention.”
Etienne was backing toward the silent mass of alien metal. He stumbled and Lyra rushed to help him, her eyes never leaving the pistol.
“There’s no need for you to do this, Homat. We won’t come after you. It’s not worth it to us. It’s not worth the spirit boat. We can always get another.”
“Can you?” She knew enough of Mai psychology to see that he was working himself up good and proper, trying to excite himself to the point of pushing the trigger. Killing Tyl was one thing. Mai and Tsla disliked one another and sometimes fought. But the thought of slaying them was something new. There were powerful spirits involved, strange alien spirits, and he was still unsure of himself.
He was going to do it, though. She could see it in his eyes, read it in the way he stood, hear it in his voice. The scrawny bald little humanoid primitive was going to kill the two of them in cold blood there at the top of his world, beneath a ceiling of ancient ice, their backs to an enigma that would now never be properly studied.
“I will keep the slave,” Homat said solemnly. He gestured toward Yulour, who stood nearby looking worried and confused. “I will make use of his strength on the homeward journey. Him I do not fear, but I do not trust you. I cannot stay awake all the time to watch you. As soon as I slept you would forget all your promises, set aside your assurances, and toss poor Homat into the Skar to take his chances with the fish.
“It is not I who is destined to be food for fishes. Not Homat the brave, Homat the great.” He took aim with the heavy pistol.
“When he settles on me,” Etienne whispered as he took a step forward, “run for it. I’ll take the shot and if you can get beyond the ship’s lights you’ll have a chance.”
“No, I won’t …”
“Don’t be an idiot!” he said huskily, taking another step forward. “Now of all times.” The muzzle was shifting to cover him, Homat’s finger moving toward the trigger. “Use your legs, Lyra. For both of us.”
The tears were coming again, blinding her worse than the glare from the spotlights. She didn’t know what to do and there was no time to make careful decisions. If only Etienne wouldn’t be so damn logical! But he was right. If she could hide in the darkness of the cavern there was an outside chance she could slip aboard the hydrofoil without Homat seeing her. She was bigger and stronger than the Mai.
Homat saw her start to back away and moved the muzzle back to cover her instead of Etienne. It was impossible to outrun the charge, but the heavy weapon was awkward in Homat’s grasp. Etienne saw that he was anticipating Lyra’s flight and steadied himself to leap between them to take the shot.
