The Hostage of Zir Read Online Free PDF Page A

who had lost his sword, was pulled out. Reith said to Kosambi: “Tell him, please, that I don’t know what started it, but I can’t have people carving up my tourists.”
    Kosambi spoke. The Krishnan spat at Reith’s feet and stalked off, just as the remaining tourists straggled back to the ship.
    Now that it was over, Reith suddenly realized how close he had come to being killed. His knees sagged, and for an instant he thought he was going to faint He grasped the gunwale to steady himself as his tourists flocked around. They drenched him with praise:
    “Fearless, you were wonderful!” “He really is fearless, isn’t he?” “A real swashbuckler!”
    Reith managed a wan smile.
    When the crowd had dispersed, Aimé Jussac confided to Reith: “I saw it. Mr. Turner got to talking to Valerie Mulroy. You know, she would try even him, and she made her intentions evident. So Considine, jealous I suppose, made a—what you call a pass at this Krishnan, who was minding his own business at the next table. They had six or seven words of Portuguese in common, but— chouette!— it was enough.”
    That evening, when they were again out in mid-river, Reith got Considine aside and asked for his side of the story. Considine professed ignorance of the cause of the disturbance.
    “Sure you didn’t try—ah—undue familiarity with him?” asked Reith.
    “I did not!” retorted Considine, drawing himself up. “I know what you mean. Look here, just because I have my own sexual preferences doesn’t mean I’m some cruising queen. One more crack like that and I’ll—”
    “Okay, have it your own way. Just don’t do it again, see? Did you lose your sword there?”
    “Yeah. When he drew on me, I drew, too, but he knocked it out of my hand. Too bad; it belonged to that hero, what’s his-name.”
    Reith smiled. “My dear Maurice, if Qarar had really owned half the swords attributed to him, he’d have needed one of those Krishnan elephants called bishtars to carry them. You can buy as many as you like in Majbur, all just as authentic”

III
    THE EMERALD IDOL

    On the right, along the low shores of the Pichidé estuary, the piers and wharves of the Free City of Majbur came into view. About these landing places clustered a swarm of local and river craft. There were fishing smacks, river barges, timber rafts, pleasure yachts, ferries, and water taxis. Beyond these, around the curve of the shore, rose a spiky fence of the masts and yards of deepwater ships. Here lay high-sided square-riggers from the stormy Va’andao Sea and lateeners with slanting yards from the more southerly ports. Here, too, were war galleys with bronzen beaks and gilded sterns, gleaming in the ruddy afternoon light of Roqir, under a greenish sky.
    With much shouting of threats and curses towards other ships, Captain Ozum worked the Zaidun under oar power towards a berth. Reith asked: “Father Khorsh, they sound as if they were going to riot. Is there any danger?”
    “No, my son. They are always noisy, but rarely does anything come of it.”
    Reith consulted his notebook. “I’m supposed to get them to Haftid’s Inn, at Forty-six Shodsir. Where would that street be?”
    “Shodsir is not a street.”
    “O que? What is it, then?”
    “O my son, have they not told you of the system of addresses used here? Shodsir is a block, and Forty-six is the forty-sixth building in that block.”
    “The forty-sixth counting from where?”
    “Not the forty-sixth in any geographical sense, but the forty-sixth in order of construction.”
    Reith digested this concept. “Well, suppose I want to meet a fellow on a given street. Where do I tell him to go?”
    “Streets in Majbur have no names. If you wished to meet your man on the street bounding the Shodsir on the north, you would say, ‘Shodsir North’. It is simple.”
    “To you, maybe. Then how do I find the Shodsir block?”
    “Any hackney driver or litter bearer can take you thither.”
    “Bem. How shall I