furry, European style.”
Stites looked at him with wide eyes. “Shit, Dennis, you’re one sick bastard!” After a moment, though, he scratched his cheek. “’Course, after a while, who knows?”
Spanky cleared his throat. He knew-well, suspected-the men were joking and that was fine. But the joke was barbed and reflected a very real concern. Best keep it a joke for now. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Strikes me they have higher standards, and I doubt you’d measure up. A goat wouldn’t be satisfied with a deck-ape.”
Silva affected offense. “Now, sir, that’s no way for an officer to talk. Downright uncharitable. Keepin’ all the goats to yourselves might deestroy the perfect harmony between the apes and snipes!”
Spanky laughed out loud. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
Of course, if the rumors he’d overheard about Silva trying to “murder” Laney were true, there was little harmony left to destroy. Officially, a rusted pin broke. With nobody, even Laney, saying otherwise, that’s all there was to it. But tensions were high. So far, everyone was too busy working together to keep the ship afloat for things to get out of hand- except the “joke” on Laney. Spanky was sure that was all it was. Silva played rough and maybe Laney had it coming. He could be a real jerk. It was even kind of funny-since nobody died-and Laney sure wasn’t as puffed up as usual. But once the ship was out of danger, they better find one of two things pretty quick: dames or a fight. If they ever added boredom to their fear and frustration, the “jokes” would stop being funny at all.
The procession wound through the heart of the open-air market that was the city of “Baalkpan.” It was somehow reassuring that the name of the place was derived from the ancient charts the Lemurians considered sacred. If nothing else, it proved that whoever transcribed or inspired the Scrolls didn’t speak Latin as a first language. Matt wasn’t positive; his historical interests were focused elsewhere, but he was pretty sure the place- names in the region had been given or recorded by the Dutch within the last two or three hundred years. That also meant that whatever religious importance the Lemurians placed on the Scrolls was a relatively new addition to their dogma. Not its sole foundation. Other than that fleeting thought, however, at the moment he and his companions were far more interested in their surroundings.
They were again struck by the vivid colors all around. Nothing went unpainted, and the tapestries and awnings were remarkably fine. Printing technology was apparently unknown, because the delicate and elaborate designs decorating virtually everything they saw were woven right into the cloth. Accomplished as they were at weaving, however, the Lemurians wore very little-enough for the sake of modesty, but only just. Kilts were the norm, although some, like Adar-and Keje tonight-might don a cape as well. Other than kilts, clothing seemed to be worn only for occupational protection. Occasionally they saw someone dressed in armor of sorts, but even then it appeared more decorative than practical. Matt knew Keje’s armor was real-even though it was carefully cleaned and polished, it was scarred with many dents and cuts that proved it wasn’t just for show. The people of Baalkpan seemed happy and prosperous, if just a bit garish. But unlike Keje and the crew of Big Sal, they didn’t look like fighters.
What they lacked in martial manner, they made up for with their enthusiastic greeting of Keje’s people and the destroyermen. Matt saw plenty of naked curiosity, but no hostility at all. Little apparent surprise either, and it dawned on him suddenly that of course they’d known Walker was coming. They’d dawdled along with Big Sal for days after being seen, and word could have reached Balikpapan on the slowest fishing boat. There’d also been plenty of time for them to learn what happened with the Grik. Indeed, that seemed to have a lot to do with the enthusiastic greeting. They were “hailing the heroes home from the war.” They saw the battle as a great victory and were rejoicing.
“It’s just amazing!” Sandra shouted in his ear, over the tumult. He nodded. Large feline eyes of all colors gazed intently at them from the crowd. Here and there, Lemurian children scampered on all fours, their tails in the air, dodging between the legs of their elders. Others openly suckled their mothers. Ahead, a smallish brontosaurus was hitched to a cart loaded with something pungent. It balked at a command from its driver, apparently startled by the commotion, and bellowed in protest. The procession paused while the driver regained control of the beast and then continued on.
“Amazing!” shouted Courtney Bradford, suddenly just behind them, oblivious to protocol. “They use dinosaurs like oxen, or mules! I wouldn’t have thought they were intelligent enough to domesticate! The dinosaurs, I mean.”
“You’d be surprised,” Matt replied. “I knew a guy who rode a Longhorn steer around like a horse, and a Longhorn can’t be any smarter than a dinosaur.”
“Indeed?”
They passed fishmongers hawking their wares who stopped to gawk at the procession. Mostly, they sold the familiar “flasher-fish” they’d all seen quite enough of, but Matt was surprised to see other types of fish as well. He’d almost imagined that the flasher-fish, vicious and prolific as they were, must have virtually wiped out every other species in the sea. Now he saw that wasn’t the case, although the other fishes, by their size and formidable appearance, didn’t look any more pleasant to meet. There was a large crustacean resembling a giant armored scorpion with a lobster tail that looked able to propel it forward as well as back. He was intrigued by a small version of the plesiosaur they’d rammed, and a very ordinary-looking shark. He’d thought sharks wouldn’t stand a chance in these far more lethal waters, and he suspected they weren’t the dominant predators he’d always known them to be.
He glanced behind and saw that the procession was growing more boisterous, but it wasn’t as large anymore. Many of Big Sal’s crew had been tempted away by diversions or acquaintances. There was still quite a throng, and city dwellers caroused along with them as they made their way toward a massive edifice, squat in comparison to others but much broader and more imposing. It rested on considerably higher stilts than the buildings nearby, and growing up through the center and out through the top was a truly stupendous tree.
At its base, the procession finally halted and the crowd noises diminished. Keje stepped forward and raised his hands, palms forward. When he spoke, Chack quietly translated as best he could.
“Greetings, Nakja-Mur, High Chief of Baalkpan!” Keje’s voice seemed unnaturally loud now that everyone nearby was silent.“I am Keje-Fris-Ar, High Chief of Salissa Home, come from the Southern Sea with mighty friends, trade, and tales to tell. May we come aboard for counsel?”
There was a moment of silence, then a powerful voice from an unseen source boomed at them from above.
“Come aboard, and welcome, Brother. It is long since Salissa Home visited these waters, and some of your tale has arrived before you. Come, eat and drink and tell me your tale. Bring these mighty friends of yours. I would meet them!”
Adar glanced back at them and suddenly spoke urgently to Keje. Keje looked at them and seemed to hesitate, but then clapped Adar on the back and scampered up the rope ladder that was, apparently, the only way up. Adar looked at them again with what might have been uncertainty, but then followed his leader. Matt motioned for Sandra to make the twenty-foot climb and with a smile she grasped the ropes and started up. Matt would have sworn he hadn’t consciously considered it when he suggested she go first, but he caught himself watching the shapely nurse ascending the ladder above and for a moment he was almost mesmerized. The white stockings didn’t hide her athletic legs, and the way her hips swished from side to side at the bottom of her wasp-thin waist… He shook his head and looked away, vaguely ashamed, and saw all the other men watching as well. He coughed loudly and meaningfully and gestured Chack closer.
“How come these people build everything so high off the ground?”
Chack looked at him blankly, then his eyelids fluttered with amusement and he grinned. “Is, ah, tradition? Yes. Remind us of old ways. Also, keep dry when high water. Bad land lizards not climb good, too.”
Matt grinned back at him. “Makes sense to me!” With that, he made his own way up.
Large as it was, Captain Reddy never imagined that the enormous hall he entered would possibly hold all who came along, but it did-as well as an equal number of locals. The size and shape reminded him of an oversized basketball court, dimly lit by oil lamps that exuded a pleasant, if somewhat fishy smell. Huge beams supported the vaulted ceiling and great gaudy tapestries lined the walls, stirring gently with the soft breeze from banks of open shutters. Dominating the center of the hall, the trunk of the massive Galla tree disappeared into the gloom above. Except for the size of the tree and the height of the ceiling, it looked like the Great Hall on Big Sal. Matt guessed there were close to five hundred occupants, talking animatedly, and for the moment, no one paid them any heed.
Along one wall, a long bar was laid with colorful dishes heaped with food. Every ten feet or so was a cluster
