Free Tower of Zanid by L. Sprague de Camp Page A

Instead of letting go, Fredro tightened his grip upon the device, shouting: “ Psiakrew ! What you doing, fool?”
    As they struggled for possession of the camera, the sufkira slid off Fredro’s shoulder to the ground. Gazi, with an exclamation of irk (for she would have to wash the garments) picked them up. Meanwhile Fredro’s shout, and the struggle between the archeologist and Fallon, had drawn the attention of the nearer Zaniduma. One of the latter pointed and cried: “Behold these other Earthmen! One of them is trying to steal our souls!”
    “Oh, he is, is he?” said another.
    Glancing around, Fallon saw that he and his party had in their turn become the focus of hostile glances. Around the tomb of Balade, the noise of the hecklers had nearly drowned out the powerful voice of Welcome Wagner. That crowd was working itself up to the stage where they would soon pull the Earthman down off the wall and beat him to death, if they did not kill him in some more lingering and humorous manner. Even the water-wagon driver and his assistant had gotten down off the vehicle and trailed over to see what was happening.
    Fallon jerked Fredro’s sleeve. “Come on, you idiot. Shift-ho!”
    “Where?” asked Fredro.
    “Oh to hell with you!” cried Fallon, ready to dance with exasperation.
    He caught Gazi’s wrist and started to lead her toward the water-wagon. A Zanidu stepped up close to Fredro, stuck out his tongue, and shouted: “ Bakhan Terraol”
    The Krishnan aimed a slap at the archeologist’s face. Fallon heard the slap connect, and then the more solid sound of Fredro’s fist. He glanced back to see the Zanidu fall backwards to a sitting position on the cobbles. The scientist, if elderly, still had plenty of steam left in his punches.
    The other Zaniduma began to close in, shouting and waving their fists. Fredro, as if aware for the first time of the trouble that he had fomented, started after Fallon and Gazi. The little camera swung on the end of its strap as Fredro turned as he ran, shouting polysyllabic Polish epithets.
    “The wagon!” said Fallon to his jagaini.
    Reaching the water-wagon, Gazi turned long enough to toss the bundle of towelling into Fallon’s hands, and swung herself up on to the driver’s seat by the hand-holds. Then she held out her hands for the sufkira, which Fallon threw to her before climbing up himself. Right after him, came the bulky body of Julian Fredro.
    Fallon pulled the whip out of its socket, cracked it over the heads of the shaihans, and shouted: “ Hao! Haoga-i! ”
    The bulky brutes stirred their twelve legs and lunged forward against their harness. The wagon started with a jerk. At that moment, Fallon had no particular thought of interfering in the quarrel between the citizens of Zanid and Welcome Wagner. However, the wagon happened to be headed straight for this scene of strife, so that Fallon could not help seeing that bare arms were reaching up from the crowd and trying to pull down the preacher, who clung to the top of the wall, still shouting.
    Little though he really cared about Wagner’s fate, Fallon could not resist the temptation to try to cut a fine figure in the sight of Gazi and Fredro. He cracked his whip once more, yelling: “ Vyant-hao !”
    At the cry, the rearmost Zaniduma turned and tumbled out of the way as the team lumbered in among them.
    “ Vyant-hao !” screamed Fallon, cracking his whip over the heads of the throng.

Chapter VII
    The wagon drove in among the crowd, dividing it as a ship does flotsam, while the Balhibuma who had started to chase Fredro ran in behind it, shouting threats and objurgations. Under Fallon’s guidance the wagon slewed up against the wall around the tomb, like a motorboat coming in to dock, where Welcome Wagner was shakily getting to his feet again.
    “Jump aboard!” yelled Fallon.
    Wagner jumped, almost falling off on the far side of the water-tank. A few more cracks of the whip, and the team broke into a shambling run