Wyst: Alastor 1716 (8 page)

Jantiff had not previously known of this aspect to life in
Arrabus. He frowned over his shoulder toward the cluster of pale brown
buildings. “How long does all this take?”

“Two days, and for another two or three days you are totally
addled. Still, export we must, to pay for maintenance, and what, after all, is
two days a year in the interests of egalism?”

Thee man-way ended at a, depot, where the group boarded an
ancient omnibus. Swaying and wallowing perilously, the omnibus slid them up the
road between slopes overgrown with blue canker-wort and black dendrons studded
with poisonous scarlet seed balls.

After an hour’s ride the bus arrived at the, head of Hebron
Gap. “End of the road, all out!” cried Thworn. “Now we must march off on foot,
like the adventurers of old!”

The troop set off along a lane leading downhill through a stand of kirkash trees smelling strong and sweet of resin. Ahead the land
flattened to become Pamatra Valley; beyond stretched the Weirdlands under a
smoke-colored shroud of forest.

Garrace called over his shoulder: “Jantiff, shake a leg
there; you’ll have to keep up. What are you doing?”

“Just making a sketch of that tree. Look at the way the
branches angle out! They’re like dancing maenads!”

“No time for sketching!” Thworn called back. “We’ve still
got five or ten miles to go.”

Jantiff reluctantly put away his sketch pad and caught up
with the others.

The lane swung out on a meadow and broke into a half-dozen
trails leading off in various directions. Here the group encountered another
set of foragers. “Hello there!” called Uwser, “what’s your house?”

“We’re desperadoes from Bumbleville in Two-twenty.”

“That’s a long way from us. “Were all Old Pinkers, from
Seventeen—except Woble and Vich; they’re denizens of the infamous White Palace.
What luck are you having?”

“Nothing to speak of. We heard a rumor of a lovely bitter-nut
tree, but we couldn’t find it. We ate a few sweet-hops and looked into an
orchard, but the locals warned us off and sent a boy to spy us clear of the premises.
What are you for?”

“Bonier of all sorts, and we’re a determined group. We’ll
probably push south five or ten miles before we start our forage.”

“Good luck to you!”

Thworn led the Old Pinkers south along a trail which took
them at once into a dense forest of black, mace trees. The air in the shade was
dank and chill and smelled strong of mouldering vegetation. Thworn called out:
“Everyone watch for bitternuts and remember there’s a wild plum tree somewhere
in the vicinity!”

A mill passed with no evidence either of nuts or plums, and
the trail came to a fork. Thworn hesitated. “I don’t recall this fork… I
wonder if we set off along the wrong trail? Well, no matter; the, bonter is—out
there somewhere! So then—the right-hand fork!”

Ernaly, a rather frail girl with a fastidious manner, said
plaintively: “How far must we, go? I’m really not all that keen on hiking,
especially if you don’t know the way.”

Thworn said sternly: “My dear girl, naturally we’ve got to
hike! We’re in the middle of the forest with nothing to eat but skane bark.”

“Please don’t talk about eating,” cried Rehilmus, a blonde
kitten-faced girl with small feet and a ripe figure displayed almost to the
point of sexivation, “I’m ravenous right now.”

Thworn swung his arm, in a gesture of command. “No
complaints! Up and away and after the banter!”

The group set out along the right-hand path, which presently
dwindled to a trail winding this way and that under the lowering mace trees.
Kedidah, walking at the rear with Jantiff, grumbled under her breath. “Thworn
doesn’t know where he’s going any more than I do.”

“What, exactly, are we looking for?” Jantiff asked.

“These Wold farms are the richest of Weirdland, because they
fringe on the Pleasant Zone. The farmers are mad for copulation; they give
baskets of banter for a bit of fondling. You can’t imagine the tales I’ve
heard: roasted fowl, fried salt-side, pickled batracher, baskets of fruit! All
for a brisk bit of copulation.”

“It seems too good to be true.”

Kedidah laughed. “Only if there’s fair play. It’s not unknown
that while the girls are copulating the men are eating until there’s nothing
left, and the walk home is apt to be moody.”

“So I would imagine,” said Jantiff. “Sunover, for instance,
would never accept such a situation without protest.”

“I suspect not. Look, Thworn has discovered something!”

In response to Thworn’s signals the group fell silent. They
advanced cautiously, at last to peer through the foliage out upon a small
farmstead. To one side a half-dozen cattle grazed the meadow; to the other grew
rows of bantock and mealie-bush and tall racks of vat-berries. At the center
stood a rambling structure of timber and petrified soil.

Garrace pointed: “Look—yonder! Lyssum vines! Is anyone
about?’

“The place seems deserted,” Uwser muttered. “Notice the fowl
roost to the side!”

“Well then, I’m for being bold,” said Garrace. “They’re all within, gulping down their noon bonter, and here stand we with our mouths
open. I accept the unspoken invitation!”

He stepped out from the forest and advanced upon the lyssum
vines, followed by Colcho, Hasken, Vich, Thworn and the others, with Jantiff
thoughtfully keeping to the rear. Garrace uttered a startled cry as the ground
gave way under his feet; he disappeared from view. The others paused uncertainly,
then went forward to peer down at Garrace, where be floundered among sodden brambles.
“Get me out of here,” be roared. “Don’t just stand there gaping!”

“No need to be offensive,” said Thworn. “Here; give me your
hand!” He pulled and Garrace was dragged up to solid ground.

“What a vile trick!” exclaimed Rehilmus. “You might have
been seriously hurt!”

“I’m not at all comfortable,” growled Garrace. “I’m full of
thorns and they’ve poured a year’s worth of slops down there. But I’m still for
that lyssum, and now I’ll have it for sure.”‘

“Do be careful!” cried Mandel, another of the girls. “These
folk are obviously unfriendly.”

“And now I’m unfriendly too!” Garrace proceeded toward the
vines, testing, the ground ahead of him. After—a moment’s hesitation the others
followed.

Twenty yards short of the vines he stumbled and almost fell.
He looked down: “A trip wire!”

From the farmhouse issued two men, a stout woman and a pair
of striplings. They picked up cudgels and one of the boys raised a hatch in the
side of the structure. Out rushed four black delps of that sort known as “mouthers.”
Baying and moaning, they charged the foragers, followed by the farm folk with
their cudgels. With one accord the foragers turned and ran toward the forest,
led by Jantiff who had not ventured any great distance into the meadow.

The slowest of the foragers was the amiable Colcho, who had
the misfortune to fall. The delps were upon him, but the farm folk called them
off and sent them after the other fugitives while they beat Colcho with their
cudgels, until Colcho finally managed to break away, and running faster than
ever, gained the relative security of the forest. The delps leapt upon Rehilmus
and Ernaly and might have done them damage had not Thworn and Jantiff beaten
them away with dead branches.

The group returned the way they had come. Reaching the fork
they found that Colcho had evidently fled in a direction different from their
own and was now missing. Everyone called, “Colcho! Colcho! Where are you?” But
Colcho failed to reply, and no one felt in any mood to return along the trail
looking for him. “He should have stayed with the group,” said Uwser.

“He had no chance,” Kedidah pointed out. “The farm folk were
beating him and he was lucky to get away at all.”

“Poor Colcho,” sighed Mandel.

“‘Poor Colcho?’” cried Garrace in outrage. “What about me? I’ve
been scratched and stabbed; I’m stinking with nameless muck! I’ve got to do
something for myself!”

“There’s a stream yonder; go bathe,” Thworn suggested. “You’ll
feel much better.”

“Not if I have to get back into these clothes; they’re absolutely
befouled.”

“Well, Jantiff is carrying a spare outfit: you’re about of a size and I’m sure he’ll let you have them. Right, Jantiff? It’s all for one
and one for all among the jolly Old Pinkers.”

Jantiff reluctantly brought the garments from his knapsack,
and Garrace went off to bathe.

Kedidah demanded of Thworn: “What now? Have you any notion
of where we are?”

“Of course. We take the left fork instead of the right; I had
a momentary lapse of memory; there’s really no problem.”

Rehilmus said crossly: “Except that it’s time for wump, and
I’m famished. In fact I can’t go another step.”

“We’re all hungry,” said Hasken. “You’re not really alone.”

“Yes, I am,” declared Rehilmus. “No one becomes as hungry
as I do, because I just can’t function without food.”

“Oh, the devil,” said Thworn in disgust. “Jantiff, give her a
bite or two of gruff, to keep her on her feet.”

“I’m hungry too,” said Ernaly peevishly.

“Oh, don’t pout so,” said Rehilmus. “I’ll share with you.”

Jantiff brought out his four cakes of gruff and placed them
upon a stump. “This is all I have. Divide it as you like.”

Rehilmus and Email’ each took a cake; Thworn and Uwser
shared the third; Kedidah and Sunover shared the fourth.

Garrace returned, from washing in the stream. “Feeling
better?” asked Rehilmus brightly.

‘To some extent, although I wish Jantiff’s clothes came a
size, larger. Still, far better than these befouled rags.” He held them away
from him with exaggerated disgust. “I won’t carry them with me; I guess I’ll
just leave them here.”

“Don’t give up good clothes,” Thworn advised. “There’s room
in Jantiff’s knapsack, just drop them in.”        —

“That would solve everything,” said Garrace, and he turned
to Jantiff. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Quite sure,” said Jantiff in a gloomy voice.

Thworn rose to his feet. “Everybody ready? Away we go!”

The foragers set off along the trail, Thworn again in the
lead. Presently he made a clenched-fist sign of jubilation and swung around. “This
is the trail; I recognized that knob of rock. There’s boater ahead; I smell it
from here!”

“How much farther?’ demanded Rehilmus. “Quite candidly, my
feet hurt.”

“Patience, patience! A few miles farther, over that far
ridge. This is my secret place, so everyone must pledge absolute discretion!”

“Whatever you say. Just show us the boater.”

“Come along then; don’t delay.”

The group, enlivened, jogged forward and even sang jocular
songs, of gluttony, legendary forages and chwig.

The countryside became more open as they climbed the
slope. At the ridge a vast panorama extended to the south: dark forests, a line
of river and a dramatic sky, leaden violet at the horizon, pearl white on high,
mottled with shoals of white, gray and black clouds. Jantiff halted to absorb
the scene and reached for his pad to make a rough sketch, but his hand
encountered Garrace’s dank garments and he gave up the idea.

The others had gone ahead; Jantiff hurried to catch up. As
they, descended the trees grew thickly over the trail.

Thworn called a halt. “From here on quiet and caution; let’s
not create any more fiascos.”

Sunover, peering ahead, said: “I don’t see anything whatever.
Are you sure this is the right trail?”

“Dead sure. We’re at the far edge of Pamatra Valley, where
the best limequats grow, and the river flat-fish cook up sweet as nuts.
That’s further south, to be sure, but the first farms are just below us, so
caution all. Jantiff, what in the world are you mooning at?”

“Nothing of consequence: just the lichens on this old log.
Notice how the oranges contrast with the blacks and browns!”

“Charming and quaint, but we can’t spare time for poetic
ecstasies .. Onward all, with caution!”

The foragers proceeded in utter silence: a half-mile, a
mile. Once again Rehilmus became restive, but Thworn furiously signaled
her to silence. A moment later he brought the group to a halt. “Look yonder
now, but don’t let yourselves be seen.”

“Everyone be vigilant,” Uwser cautioned. “Spy out the
trip-wires, pitfalls, electric pounces and other such nuisances.”

Peering through the trees Jantiff saw another farmstead not
a great deal different from the first they had encountered.

Thworn, Garrace, Uwser and the others conferred, pointing
here and there. Then all armed themselves with stout sticks, in the event delps
should again be encountered.

Thworn told the group: “We’ll go quietly yonder, where there
don’t seem to be any trip-wires, then make for the fowl-run at the rear of the
house. So now, keep low to the ground. Good luck and good bonter!”

He hunched himself almost double and ran off at a curious
wobbling shuffle; the others followed. As before Garrace was the boldest. He ventured
into the vegetable garden, to pull up the root crops, cramming some in his
mouth, some in his pockets. Doble, Vich and Sunover busied themselves at the vatberry
arbor, but the season was past and only a few husks remained. Thworn proceeded
toward the fowl-run.

Someone blundered into a trip-wire. A dismal clanking sound
issued from a belfry on top of the house. The door opened and out ran an old
man, an old woman and a small boy. The old man picked up a stick and attacked
Garrace,

Maudel and Hasken, who were among his radishes; they flung
him to the ground and did the same for the old woman. The boy ran into the
house and emerged with an axe; flaming-eyed he lunged for the foragers. Thworn
raised his voice in a shout: “Everybody off and away, on the double!”

Snatching up a few last radishes the foragers departed the
way they had come, Thworn and Uwser exultant in the possession of a pair of
rather thin old fowl, the necks of which they had already wrung.