Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [123]
"Rodolpho isn't likely to be overjoyed to see me coming back empty-handed," he countered. "But I'll probably have a chance to explain my reasons—to Groanwelt. Anyway, I don't know which direction it is." Lafayette peered upward through the canopy of high foliage. Not even a faint glow against the visible patches of gray sky indicated the position of the sun.
"Besides which, I can't run off and leave the Lady Andragorre to her fate.
"All right, I'm convinced: I press on. Which way is on?"
He turned around three times, with his eyes shut, stopped, and pointed.
"That way."
"You know," O'Leary confided in himself as he started off in the indicated direction, "this talking to myself isn't such a bad idea. It opens up whole new vistas.
"And it certainly cuts down on the shilly-shally factor.
"Of course, it is a sign of insanity.
"Poof—what's a little touch of schizophrenia, among all my other ailments?"
He pushed on, limping alternately on the left and right ankles, both of which he had twisted during his several sprints, leaps, and falls of the night before. Gradually the trees thinned; the tangled vines and undergrowth thickened. Patches of bare rock showed through the greenery. As he emerged on a bare, wind-swept slope dotted with stunted, wind-twisted cedars, it began to rain, a needle-sharp spray that stung his eyes, numbed his face. Fifty feet farther, the slope ended in a sheer drop. O'Leary crept close to the edge, looked down a vertical face that disappeared into mistiness.
"Splendid," he commented to the airy abyss. "Perfect. Fits right in with everything else that's happened. No wonder the old lady flew off on a broomless broom. Not even a fly could climb down that.
"So—I simply continue along the edge until I come to a road, path, or stairway leading down," he advised.
"You left out a rope ladder or a funicular railway.
"A regrettable omission. Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Mo . . . that way." He set off, following the cliff line. Another hour passed, the monotony of fatigue, pain, and frostbite broken only by two or three slips that almost pitched him over the edge.
"You're losing your stuff, O'Leary," he panted, struggling back to his feet after the last spill. "Just a few years ago, a little hike like this would have been child's play.
"Well, I can't expect to live in luxury, with every whim attended, and stay as hard as I was when I lived by my wits.
"There must be a lesson in that for me, but I hate to admit it."
The wind had increased; a driving downpour sluiced across the rock. O'Leary staggered on. His fingers and toes and lips were numb. He covered another half-mile before he paused for another conference.
"Something's bound to turn up soon," he told himself in tones of false confidence, rubbing his stiff fingers against his aching ears. "A footprint, or a dropped hanky, say . . ."
BEE-beep, BEE-beep, BEE-beep . . . The tiny sound seemed to be right beside him. Lafayette looked all around, saw nothing.
"Look here," he said aloud. "Talking to myself is bad enough, but in Morse code?"
He resumed rubbing his ears.
BEE-beep, BEE-beep, BEE-beep, the tone sounded sharply. O'Leary looked at his hands. Duke Rodolpho's ring winked on his middle finger. The ruby light glowed, dimmed, glowed, dimmed . . .
"Hey," O'Leary said weakly. He put the ring cautiously to his ear. It beeped steadily on in time with the flashing light.
"It didn't do that before," he told himself suspiciously.
"Well, it's doing it now," he came back smartly. "And it must have some significance."
"Maybe—maybe it's a radio beam—a beacon, like the airlines use.
"Maybe. Let's test it." He slogged downslope, fifty feet—listened again.
Bee-BEEP, bee-BEEP, bee-BEEP . . .
"A-ha! That means I'm moving off course." He moved on, angling back upslope. Now the ring emitted a steady hum.
"On course," O'Leary breathed. "But on course for what?
"What does it matter? Anyplace would be better than here.
"True." Head down, his eyes squinted against the freezing