Free The Ethical Engineer by Harry Harrison

wouldn't be seeing
you again after that little ... difficulty we had."
    He remained seated while he talked, stroking the few strands of his
scraggly beard. His head was shaven smooth and as sunburned and
leathery brown as the rest of his face, the most prominent feature of
which was the magnificent prow of a nose that terminated in flaring
nostrils and was used as sturdy support for a pair of handmade
sunglasses. They appeared to be carved completely of bone and fit
tightly to the face, their flat, solid fronts were cut with thin
transverse slashes. This eye protection, the things could only have
been for weak eyes, and the network of wrinkles indicated the man was
quite old and would present no danger to Jason.
    "I want something," Jason said, in straightforward, Ch'akaish manner.
    "A new voice and a new Ch'aka—I bid you welcome. The old one was a
dog and I hope he died in great pain when you killed him. Now sit
friend Ch'aka and drink with me." He carefully opened the basket and
removed a stone crock and two crockery mugs.
    "Where you get poison drink?" Jason asked, remembering his local
manners. This
D'zertano
was a smart one and had been able to tell
instantly from Jason's voice that there had been a change in slaves.
"And what your name?"
    "Edipon," the ancient said as, uninsulted, he put the drinking
apparatus back into the basket. "What is it that you want—within
reason that is? We always need slaves and we are always willing to
trade."
    "I want slave you got. I trade you two for one."
    The seated man smiled coldly from behind the shelter of his nose. "It
is not necessary to talk as ungrammatically as the coastal barbarians,
since I can tell by your accent that you are a man of education. What
slave is it that you want?"
    "The one that you just received from Fasimba. He belongs to me." Jason
abandoned his linguistic ruse and put himself even more on guard,
taking a quick look around at the empty sands. This dried up old bird
was a lot brighter than he looked and he would have to stay on guard.
    "Is that all you want?" Edipon asked.
    "All I can think of at this moment. You produce this slave and perhaps
we can talk more business."
    "I have an even better idea than that."
    Edipon's laugh had very dirty overtones and Jason sprang back when the
oldster put two fingers into his mouth and whistled shrilly between
them. There was the rustle of shifting sand and Jason wheeled to see
men apparently climbing out of the empty desert, pushing back wooden
covers over which the sand had been smoothed. There were six of them,
with shields and clubs, and Jason cursed his stupidity at meeting
Edipon on a spot of the other's choosing. He swung his club behind him
but the oldster was already scampering for the safety of the rock.
Jason howled in anger and ran at the nearest man who was still only
halfway out of his hiding place. The man took Jason's blow on his
upraised shield and was toppled back into the pit by the force of it.
Jason ran on but another was ahead of him, swinging his own war club
in readiness. There was no way around so Jason ran into him at full
speed with all of his pendant teeth and horns gnashing and clattering.
The man fell back under the attack and Jason split his shield with his
club, and would have done further damage except that the other men
arrived at that moment and he had to face them.
    It was a brief and wicked battle, with Jason giving just a little more
than he received. Two of the attackers were down and a third holding
his cracked head when the weight of numbers carried Jason to the
ground. He called to his slaves for aid, then cursed them when they
only remained seated, while his arms were pinioned with rope and his
weapons stripped from his body. One of the victors waved to the slaves
who now stood and docilely marched into the desert. Jason was dragged,
snarling with rage, in the same direction.
*
    There was a wide opening in the desert-facing side of the wall and
once through it Jason's anger