Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [174]
The Wayfarers gathered around him, slapping him on the back and pumping his hand. Someone struck up a tune on a concertina; others joined in. Jugs appeared, to be passed from hand to hand. As soon as he could, Lafayette disengaged himself, used the green handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
"Thanks very much," he said to Gizelle. "I, uh, appreciate your speaking up for me, miss."
She hugged his arm, looked up at him with a flashing smile. Her eyes were immense, glistening dark, her nose delightfully retroussé, her lips sweetly curved, her cheeks dimpled.
"Theenk nothing of it, Zorito. After all, I couldn't let theem cut you in beets, could I?"
"I'm glad somebody around here feels that way. But I still have the problem of getting home. Could I arrange to borrow a horse—just overnight, of course—"
A burst of laughter from the gallery greeted this request. Gizelle compressed her lips, took Lafayette's arm possessively.
"You are a beeg joker, Zorito," she said sternly; then she smiled. "But eet ees no matter; I love you anyway! Now—on weeth the festeevities!" She seized his hand and whirled him away toward the sound of music.
2
It was three hours later. The twenty-gallon punch-tank contained only half an inch of pulpy dregs; the roast ox had been stripped to the bones. The musicians had long since slid, snoring, under their benches. Only a few determined drinkers still raised raucous voices in old Wayfarer songs. Gizelle had disappeared momentarily on some personal errand. It was now or never.
Lafayette put down the leathern cup he had been nursing, eased silently back into the shadows. No one called after him. He crossed a moonlit strip of grassy meadow, waited again in the shelter of the trees. The drunken song continued undisturbed. He turned and slipped away between the trees.
A hundred feet up the trail, with the sounds and smells of the celebration already lost in the spicy scent of pine and the soughing of wind through the heavy boughs, Lafayette halted, peering back down-trail for signs of followers. Seeing no one, he tiptoed off the trail, setting a direct course for the capital—about ten miles due south, he estimated. A long hike, but well worth it to get clear of this bunch of maniacs. Little Gizelle was the only sane person in camp—and even she had some serious hang-ups. Well, he'd send her a nice memento once he was safely back in town; a string of beads say, or possibly a party dress. It would be nice to see her dolled up. He pictured her garbed in formal court wear, with jewels in her hair and her fingernails polished, and just a touch of perfume back of the ear.
"I might even invite her down to a rout or ball," he mused. "She'd be a sensation, cleaned up a little; she might even meet some nice young fellow who'd put a ring on her finger, and—"
Ducking under a low-spreading branch, Lafayette halted, frowning at a large pair of boots visible under a bush. His gaze traveled upward along a matching pair of legs, surmounted by the torso and unfriendly features of Luppo, standing fists on hips, smiling crookedly down at him.
"Looking for sometheeng, Zorro?" the big man growled in his husky voice.
"I was just taking a little constitutional," Lafayette said, getting to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster.
"Eef I was the suspeeciuos type," Luppo growled, "I might theenk you were trying to sneak out on my seester like a feelthy double-crossing rat."
With a muttered "Hmphff," Lafayette turned and made his way back down the path, followed by the big tribesman's sardonic chuckle. Judging that he had put sufficient distance between himself and Luppo, he picked a spot where the undergrowth thinned, again left the path, striking off to the left. A dense stand of brambles barred his path; he angled uphill to avoid it, crawled under a clump of thorn, scaled an outcropping of rock, turned to take his bearings, and saw a large man named Borako leaning against a tree, casually whittling a stick. The Wayfarer looked up, spat.
"Another shortcut?" he inquired