Read Online Android at Arms by Andre Norton - Free Book Online

separate deal with him? Did you think we were coming to Thrisk?”
    â€œBut there were no tapes marked Thrisk.” However, Andas thought Yolyos had hit upon something. When the Salariki growled that question, Grasty had actually flinched. The attack on him must have shaken him as badly as the first sight of this deserted port had Turpyn. And while he was in this state, they had better get to the bottom of any private deal he had thought he had made.
    â€œI am Chief Councilor of Thrisk.” Grasty might have been trying for dignity, but he could not stand straight. And he groaned and clutched at the belly so cruelly outlined by his clothing. “I have resources—”
    â€œAnd you made an offer to Turpyn,” Yolyos supplied when the man seemed unable to continue. “Where did you think we were going?”
    â€œHe said Kuan-Ti. They have a strong tie with Thrisk.”
    â€œAnd you believed him?” Yolyos was plainly amused.
    â€œHe was to get a million credits.” Grasty choked out the words as if each hurt.
    A million—what kind of personal fortune did Grasty have to draw on? Or did he intend for that to come from the safekeeping of Thrisk? Or had he intended not to pay at all, having once achieved his purpose? Andas suspected the last as the truth. Two of them making a bargain neither intended to keep—well might Grasty curse.
    â€œIt would seem that your trust was not mutual,” commented Yolyos. “I do not think you are going to see Kuan-Ti, nor Thrisk for a while—”
    â€œHelp!”
    The cry came from the ship, not the woods into which Turpyn had plunged. Tsiwon stood at the foot of the ramp beckoning wildly. And crumpled at his feet lay Elys. Andas reached them first and went down on his knees beside her.
    She lay with her eyes closed, and those odd growths on her neck had an unhealthy look, shriveled, puckering up in scaled patches.
    â€œShe said,” Tsiwon cried out breathily in his thin voice, “that she must have water, that she smelled it and must reach it or she would die. She started to run—in that direction—” He pointed.
    â€œAquatic race.” Yolyos had gone down on one knee, too. “I wonder how she has managed so long. But she will have to have her water or die. There is undoubtedly a limit on the time she can remain dry.”
    â€œBut her prison cell seemed no different from mine—”
    â€œWe don’t know what type of mind-lock we were in back there. The point is—she needs it now and in a hurry.” The Salariki scrambled to his feet. “Can you carry her? If so, I’ll break trail.”
    Andas got to his feet, glad she was so light of frame—unusually so. He had not been aware on the ship that she was so thin. Her bones seemed almost starting through her pale skin. Maybe that was caused by dehydration.
    They headed to the spot Tsiwon had pointed out. There Yolyos went into action, beating down, breaking off branches and vines, clearing a rough path through which Andas could steer a way with Elys resting across his shoulder. He had not moved or made a sound since he had picked her up.
    â€œShe’s right—water—” Yolyos was sniffing, as though water might have a scent—though at that it might, for the Salariki. For a race whose sense of smell was so acute that they habitually wore scent bags about their persons, the smelling of water might not be too great a feat.
    What had Yolyos endured without his scents? It was customary that off-worlders coming to Sargol had to steep themselves in aromatic odors before having any dealings with the natives. What had Yolyos endured without his scents—pent in the ship? It must have been very hard on him, yet never once had he complained.
    They broke through a last screen of brush and came out at the side of a pool.
    â€œWhat do we do?” Andas was at a loss.
    â€œNo telling how deep this is. Do you