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sword."
Chuen's bulk blocked the dim light through the window as he heaved himself over the
sill with surprising quietness for one of his build. Together they stole down the piles of
merchandise to the floor and walked steathily towards the candlelight. Twice they got
lost in the maze of aisles between the rows of crates. Finally they came to the corner of
the building where the candle was located.
Looking around the corner of a pile of bags, Hasselborg espied a little cleared space,
with a desk and a chair, and the candle burning in a holder on a shelf. Just outside the
cleared space stood the packing case they were after. And, in the angle between the case
and the wall, a man sat with legs asprawl, sleeping one of the boat crew.
As Hasselborg moved to get a better view, his scabbard struck against the merchandise
and gave forth a faint tink. Instantly the man's eyes opened. For two seconds these eyes
swiveled before coming to rest on Hasselborg and his companion.
Instantly the man bounded to his feet, holding a scimitar that had lain on the floor
beside him, and sprang towards the intruders. Hasselborg jumped away from the crates
to get elbow room and drew his sword. The man, however, went for Chuen. The curved
blade swished through the air and met the pry bar with a clank.
Hasselborg stepped toward them and cut at the man, who saw him coming and skipped
away before the blow arrived. Then he came back again, light and fast, cutting right and
left. Hasselborg parried as best he could, wishing he were an experienced swordsman so
that he could skewer this slasher. Clong, dzing, thump! Chuen had stepped behind the
man and conked him with the crow. The man's saber clanged to the floor and the man
followed it, falling to hands and knees.
He shook his head, then reached for his sword.
"No you don't!" said Hasselborg. In his excitement he spoke English, but nevertheless
got his meaning across by whacking the outstretched hand with the flat of his blade.
"Ao!" cried the man, nursing his knuckles.
"Shut up and back up," said Hasselborg, remembering his Gozashtandou.
The man started to comply, but Chuen landed heavily on his back, flattening him out,
and twisted his arms behind him.
"Amigo," said the Chinese, "cut length of rope off one of these bales and give it to me."
Hasselborg did so, wondering if there were not some easier way of making a living.
While during hot action he never had time to be afraid, it gave him a queasy feeling
when he came to reckon up the odds afterwards. When the man's wrists and ankles had
been secured, they rolled him over and shoved him roughly back against the wall.
"Like to live?" asked Hasselborg, holding his point under the man's chin.
"Of course. Who be ye, thieves? I but guard the goods while "
"Pipe down. Answer our questions, and in a low voice, or else. You're one of those who
came down in the boat from Koloft, aren't you?"
"Yes."
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"Wait," said Chuen. "What's become of the regular
watchman?"
"Gone reveling. There's a place near here he's long craved to visit, but can't because
their working hours be the same as his. Since I was to stay the night anyway, I told
him to take himself off whilst I watched."
Chuen looked at Hasselborg, who nodded confirmation, saying: "I saw the man leave
this building while I was waiting for you." Hasselborg then asked the riverman:
"Where's the rest of your boatload?"
"Out on the town, even as the watchman, may Dupulan rot his soul!" "When do they
shove off?"
"Tomorrow, as soon after sunrise as their night's joys'll let 'em."
"D'you know whom this box is for?" "The Dour of Zamba, so they say." "Do you know
this dour? Have you ever seen him?" "No, not I."
"When's he due in Majbur?" "Tomorrow ere sunset."
Chuen interposed: "Whom did you get this box from in the first place?" "Earthman at
Novorecife." "What Earthman?"
"I uh know not his name; some unpronounceable Ertso "
"You'd better remember," said Hasselborg, pricking the man's skin with his point. "I'm
going to shove " "I know! I remember! 'Twas Master Julio Gois! Take away your
sticker!"
Hasselborg whistled. "No wonder he tried to have me bumped off!"
"What's this?" asked Chuen.
Hasselborg told of his experiences with the Dasht of Ruz.
"Of course!" said Chuen. "Think I know. He didn't believe your story about Miss
Batruni and took you for man after the guns. I wouldn't have believed it myself."
"But why should Gois go in for a smuggling scheme of this kind? What would he stand
to gain from it?"
"No need for material gain. He's ah fanatic about progress."
"So that's why he said that no matter what happened, always to remember that he
esteemed me! The twerp liked me well enough as a man, but since I threatened his
world-changing scheme, as he thought, I'd have to be liquidated."
"Undoubtedly." Chuen turned back to the prisoner and switched to the latter's tongue,
asking for more details. The few he got, however, were not such as to change the general
outlines of what they already knew.
"I think you've pumped our friend dry," said Hasselborg at last. "Let's have a look at
the crate."
With the pry bar they soon ripped the crate open. Inside, ranged in a double row in a
rack, were twenty-four well-greased Colt-Thompson 6.5-millimeter light machines rifles.
A compartment at the bottom of the crate held thousands of rounds of ammunition.
Hasselborg took one gun out and hefted its four kilos of weight. "Just look at these little
beauties! You can adjust them for any reasonable rate of automatic or semiautomatic
fire; you can set this doohickus to fire in bursts of two to ten shots. With one of these
and plenty of ammunition I'd take on a whole Krishnan army."
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