The Green Odyssey | Page 3

ancestors had
once been just as nauseatingly superstitious, cruel and bloody.
There was a big difference between reading about such people and actually living among
them. A history or a romantic novel could describe how unwashed and diseased and
formula-bound primitives were, but only the too-too substantial stench and filth could
make your gorge rise.
Even as he stood there Zuni's powerful perfume rose and clung in heavy festoons about
him and slithered down his nostrils. It was a rare and expensive perfume, brought back by
Miran from his voyages and given to her as a token of the merchant's esteem. Used in
small quantities it would have been quite effective to express feminine daintiness and to
hint at delicate passion. But no, Zuni poured it like water over her, hoping to cover up the
stale odor left by not taking a bath more than once a month.
She looked so beautiful, he thought. And stank so terribly. At least she had at first. Now
she looked less beautiful because he knew how stupid she was, and didn't stink quite so
badly because his nostrils had become somewhat adjusted. They'd had to.
"I intend to be back in Estorya by the time of the festival," said Miran. "I've never seen
the Eye of the Sun burn demons before. It's a giant lens, you know. There will be just
time enough to make a voyage there and get back before the rainy season. I expect to
make even greater profits than the last time, because I've established some highly placed
contacts. O gods, I do not boast but merely praise your favor to your humble worshiper,
Miran the Merchant of the Clan of Effenycan!"
"Please bring me some more of this perfume," said the Duchess, "and I just love the
diamond necklace you gave me."
"Diamonds, emeralds, rubies!" cried Miran, kissing his hand and rolling his eye
ecstatically. "I tell you, the Estoryans are rich beyond our dreams! Jewels flow in their
marketplaces like drops of water in a cataract! Ah, if only the Emperor could be induced
to organize a great raiding fleet and storm its walls!"
"He remembers too well what happened to his father's fleet when he tried it," growled the
Duke. "The storm that destroyed his thirty ships was undoubtedly raised by the priests of
the Goddess Hooda. I still think that the expedition would have succeeded, however, if
the late Emperor had not ignored the vision that came to him the night before they set sail.
It was the great god Axoputqui, and he said..."
There was a lengthy conversation which did not hold Green's attention. He was too busy
trying to think of a plan whereby he could get to Estorya and to the demons' iron vessel,

which was obviously a spaceship. This was his only chance. Soon the rainy season would
start and there would be no vessels leaving for at least three months.
He could, of course, just walk away and hope to get to Estorya on foot. Thousands of
miles through countless perils, and he had only a general idea of where the city was... no,
Miran was his only hope.
But how...? He didn't think that stowing away would work. There was always a careful
search for slaves who might try just that very plan. He looked at Miran, the short, fat,
big-stomached, hook-nosed, one-eyed fellow with many chins and a large gold ring in his
nose. The fellow was shrewd, shrewd, and he would not want to offend the Duchess by
helping her official gigolo escape. Not, that is, unless Green could offer him something
that was so valuable that he couldn't afford not to take the risk. Miran boasted that he was
a hard-headed businessman, but it was Green's observation that there was always a large
soft spot in that supposedly impenetrable cranium: the Fissure of Cupiditas.
2
THE DUKE ROSE, and everybody followed his example. Jugkaxtr chanted the formula
of dismissal, then sat down to finish gnawing on the bone. The others filed out. Green
walked in front of Zuni in order to warn her of any obstacles in her path and to take the
brunt of any attempted assassination. As he did so he was seized by the ankle and tripped
headlong. He did not fall hard because he was a quick man, in spite of his six-foot-two
and hundred ninety pounds. But he rose red-faced because of the loud laughter and from
repressed anger at Alzo, who had again repeated his trick of grabbing Green's leg and
upsetting him. He wanted to grab a spear from a nearby guard and spit Alzo. But that
would be the end of Green. And whereas up to now there had been many times when he
would not particularly have cared