Quest for the Well of Souls - Jack L. Chalker [21]
Josh stopped and cocked a large ear. "Sounds like somebody coming up the beach," he replied, puzzled and curious. "Somebody big, too. You don't suppose the Trader got in early?"
She strained, shaking her head slowly. "I don't think so. I know all of them well, their steps and sounds."
"Not Ambreza, either," he said. "I don't think I heard anything like it. They're sure trying to be quiet about it, too, aren't they?"
She nodded. Old instincts, unused and unneeded these twenty-two years, began to return. There was something wrong here. Something unpleasant was up; she was sure of it.
"Want to fire a distress flare?" Joshi whispered, catching her mood.
She shook her head again. "Takes too long for the Ambreza to get here," she responded in a tone so soft it was almost a wisp of breath.
"Whoever or whatever it is is just outside the door now," he pointed out, moving so close to her that he merely had to mouth the words into her long ears.
"If they get in, escape through the stream gate," she told him. "I don't think anybody will anticipate that."
He nodded. They edged as quietly as possible into the shadows.
"I wish we could risk putting that light out," she hissed. "Wait—see if you can unwrap the rope and hold it," she suggested. "Anybody coming in will have to pass right under the pot. Drop it and the place would be splashed with burning oil."
He nodded and carefully undid the rope from the nail.
"Help me!" cried a wailing, plaintive voice just outside, a voice much too small for the creature or creatures they'd sensed. "Please! Somebody help me!"
Joshi couldn't talk with his mouth full of rope, and he mumbled something.
Mavra caught the idea. "A trick to draw us out," she whispered. "So its big friend or friends can grab us. Damn! I wish I knew who it was and why they were doing this."
She looked around, spotted a roof support that had long needed attention. She had intended to have the Trader crew shore it up the next day, but now it might come in handy. She had a mule's hind legs; mules had a mean kick, and so did she. She considered just where to hit the bottom post so the falling roof wouldn't also catch her.
"Help me! Please help me!" the voice, so pitiful and sincere, repeated.
Quickly she whispered her plan to Joshi. Head turned, mouth full of rope, he didn't risk even a nod, but he got the idea. He tapped his right foreleg three times. Younger than Mavra, Joshi had better hearing than she did. Mavra understood. Three of them. Two big, one little by the sounds. They had underestimated the Chang race.
There was a crawling sound. The little one was crawling up to the door flap, and, now, they watched it slowly open inward, top hinge squeaking slightly. A strange little creature crawled in, legs dragging behind as if broken. Mavra knew from her Well World studies that this was a Parmiter—a Parmiter a hell of a long way from home, two or three thousand kilometers, at least.
The legs really did look useless, and the thing was a truly pitiful sight. For a moment the Changs almost doubted their suspicions, and no noises whatsoever marked the larger creatures they'd heard.
The Parmiter looked up at them, genuine surprise in its face. The creatures were very strange-looking indeed, even if it had studied purloined drawings and photographs. They looked so helpless.
It glanced up after noticing that Joshi held a rope in his teeth. Its beady little eyes followed the rope, through pulleys and across the way, until, almost above it, they arrived at the pot of burning oil.
"Holy shit!" The Parmiter screamed. It jumped up, quickly drawing an odd pistol from a natural pouch.
At that, the Parmiter's two companions decided not to waste any more time on subtlety. They hit the log walls of the compound on the run. There was a tremendous shudder, and the logs gave a little, but not much. Mavra screamed "Hold it!" to Joshi and ran straight at the Parmiter, who suddenly felt itself trapped.
It raised the gas gun but she leaped, coming down on top of him, all sixty-six kilos