The Hostage of Zir Read Online Free Page B

her walking stick like a club.
    “Oh, all right,” mumbled Pride. “I didn’t mean any harm.”
    Outside, they toured the market, where Pride insisted on buying and wearing a hat resembling a pink Terran lampshade. They viewed an undistinguished little municipal hall and started back towards the pier. Turner said: “Hey, Fearless! Maurice and I want to stop off for a drink. That’s a place that sells ’em, isn’t it?” He pointed to a tavern.
    “I don’t like to let the party split up—” said Reith.
    “Oh, come on. We know the way back. If you take the others to the boat and get worried, you can come back here for us.”
    “All right,” said Reith. Then the Mulroys and the Jussacs decided to stop for a drink, too.
    “Only,” said Jussac, “you will have to order and pay for us, since we don’t speak the language.”
    Reith entered the tavern with the six drinkers and found a table. “Reverend Khorsh, will you please stay with them and order for them?”
    “A strange request, my son, to me who drinks not. But for your sake I will do it. Who knows what unlooked-for wisdom I may acquire thereby?”
    “Thanks. Remember, the rest of you, come straight back to the boat when you finish.”
    When he went out to lead the remaining half of his gaggle back, Reith found that Schwerin had disappeared. After a frantic search, he found the man perched on the corner of a roof, photographing the square. The usual crowd of curious Krishnans had gathered below him, staring up.
    As Reith fumed, a fragment of his rusty German returned. “Herr Schwerin! he shouted. “Bitte, kommen Sie herunter, sofort!”
    Schwerin gave a vague wave and smile and continued his photography. Reith took the remaining five back to the Zaidun.
    He was about to return to gather up the rest of his group when a disturbance drew his attention. Maurice Considine appeared running, his empty scabbard slapping against his legs. After him came a big Krishnan waving a sword.
    Considine pounded out on the pier and leaped aboard the Zaidun. So did the Krishnan. The other passengers scattered with cries of alarm, falling over one another to get out of the way.
    Reith looked about for something to stop the pursuer. His eye lighted upon a pile of fencing equipment against the bulwark. He and Guzmán-Vidal had placed it there after a practice bout that morning. He snatched up one of the singlesticks.
    As Considine ran past him, Reith stepped into the path of the Krishnan. He wanted to order the man to stop but could not think of the right words. He shouted: “Stop! Halte-là! Pàre!” in hope that his tone would convey his meaning.
    The Krishnan kept on, shouting, “Baghan!” and swinging up his sword. Reith parried and felt the steel blade bite into the wood. There was a quick exchange of cuts and thrusts.
    Reith lunged, aiming low and to his left. The Krishnan brought his blade around in a whistling parry in seconde. If it had landed, it might have severed the singlestick.
    Remembering what Heggstad had pounded into him, Reith doubled and thrust. The point of the Krishnan’s sword scarred the deck planks as Reith’s blunt wooden point took the Krishnan in the chest. Reith put all his strength into the push.
    As the two had circled, the Krishnan had come to stand with his back to the gunwale. Hence, as Reith pushed him, he backed into the low bulwark and fell over backwards. Splash!
    Keith stepped after the Krishnan and looked down. The Krishnan’s head emerged from the brown water with a strangled yell.
    “He says ‘Help!’ ” said Ganesh Kosambi, who had appeared beside Reith. “He cannot swim.”
    “Serve him right if he drowns,” said Reith.
    “You had better pull him out,” said the missionary. “Otherwise there will be complications. You may find yourself in the Gadri jail. It is not a nice place.”
    Reith sighed. “I suppose you’re right, damn it Captain Ozum! Have you—what the devil’s the word for ‘rope’?”
    The Krishnan,