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The explosions and shouting coming from the castle had aroused the whole town,
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so that everybody who could stand on his two feet, or could get somebody to
carry him, was outside, milling around, asking questions, talking excitedly and
in general trying to make as much chaos as possible and to enjoy every bit of
this excuse to take part in a general disturbance. Green strode through them,
his head bent but his eyes probing ahead. He made fairly good progress, only
being held up temporarily a few times by the human herd.
Finally the flat plain of the windbreak lay before him, and the many masts
of the great wheeled vessels were a forest around him. He was able to get to the
Bird of Fortune unchallenged by any of the dozens of guardsmen that he passed.
The 'roller herself lay snugly between two docks, where a huge gang of slaves
had towed her. There was a gangway running up from one of the docks, and at both
ends stood a sailor on guard, clad in the family colors of yellow, violet and
crimson. They chewed grixtr nut, something like betel except that it stained
both teeth and lips and gave them a green color.
When Green stepped boldly upon the gangway the nearest guard looked
doubtful and put his hand on his knife. Evidently he'd had no orders from Miran
about a priest, but he knew what the mask indicated and that awed him enough so
that he did not dare oppose the stranger. Nor was the second guard any quicker
in making up his mind. Green slipped by him, entered the middecks and walked up
the gangway to the foredeck. He knocked quietly on the door of the captain's
cabin. A moment later it swung violently open; light flooded out, then was
blocked off by Miran's huge round bulk.
Green stepped inside, pressing the captain back, Miran reached for his
dagger but stopped when he saw the intruder take off the mask and spectacles and
throw back the hood.
"Green! So you made it! I did not think it was possible."
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"With me all things are possible," replied Green modestly. He sat down at
the table, or rather crumpled at it, and began repeating in a dry voice, halting
with fatigue, the story of his escape. In a few minutes the narrow cabin rang
with the captain's laughter and his one eye twinkled and beamed as he slapped
Green on the back and said that by all the gods here was a man he was proud to
have aboard.
"Have a drink of this Lespaxian wine, even better than Chalousma, and one I
bring out only for honored guests," said Miran, chortling.
Green reached out a hand for the proffered glass, but his fingers never
closed upon the stem, for his head sank onto the tabletop, and his snores were
tremendous.
It was three days later that a much-rested Green, his skin comfortably,
even glowingly, tight with superb Lespaxian, sat at the table and waited for the
word to come that he could finally leave the cabin. The first day of inactivity
he'd slept and eaten and paced back and forth, anxious for news of what was
going on in the city. At nightfall Miran had returned with the story that a
furious search was organized in the city itself and the outlying hills. Of
course, the Duke would insist that the 'rollers themselves be turned inside-out,
and Miran was cursing because that would mean a fatal delay. They could not wait
for more than three more days. The fish tanks had been installed; the provisions
were almost all in the hold; his roistering crewmen were being dragged out of
the taverns and sobered up; two days after tomorrow the great vessel would have
to be towed out of the windbreak and sails set for the perilous and long voyage.
"I wouldn't worry," said Green. "You will find that tomorrow word will come
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from the hills that Green has been killed by a wild man of the Clan Axaquexcan,
who will demand money before handing the dead slave's head over. The Duke will
accept this as true and will conveniently forget all about searching the
'rollers."
Miran rubbed his fat oily palms, while one pale eye glowed. He loved a good
intrigue, the more elaborate the better.
But the second day, even though what Green had predicted came true Miran
became nervous and began to find the big blond man's constant presence in his
cabin irksome. He wanted to send him down into the hold, but Green firmly
refused, reminding the captain of his promise of haven within these very walls.
He then calmly appropriated another bottle of the merchant's Lespaxian, having
located its hiding place, and drank it. Miran glowered, and his face twitched
with repressed resentment, but he said nothing because of the custom that a
guest could do what he pleased--within reasonable limits.
The third day Miran was positively a tub of nerves, jittery, sweating,
pacing back and forth. At last he left the cabin, only to begin pacing back and
forth on the deck. Green could hear his footsteps for hours. The fourth day he
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