Rains turned. He recognized one of the men from the AFUA line. He'd
been wrong; not all of them had become discouraged and gone back. Rains
appraised him quickly, a squat fellow, not very tall, but he made up in
width what he lacked in height. He wore a loin or ghandi cloth and a
remarkably ugly turban. It was the usual attire for this part of India.
His limbs, though not long, were of enormous muscular girth.
"I don't give alms," said Rains, tearing his gaze from the
fascinatingly horrible turban. Passers by were staring at the man too.
The native's eyes held the impervious look of the unemployed. "I didn't
ask, sir. You lost something." He held out his hand and the emblem was
in it.
Rains snatched it in dismay. The native's face seemed innocent enough.
Hesitating for only an instant, Rains made a quick mental stab,
feigning a coughing spasm while he did so. "I psi, pthi, spy," bleated
the pin. He jangled coins loudly and coughed harder.
Quickly he withdrew his mind. The Hindu didn't suspect a thing, though
his eyes widened at Rains' impromptu performance. It didn't matter;
he'd ascertained the other wasn't a telepath. Rains flipped a few coins
toward him, said thanks and walked away.
He glanced back. The native was still trailing behind, evidently not
satisfied with the reward. As long as the fellow was behind him, Rains
didn't want to drop the emblem again. And he couldn't keep it.
Another idea came up. From the hotel he'd seen a stream winding
through the city. It was yellow and muddy, an even better place for
the disposal of the tricky little item. He angled off until he saw the
river ahead, and noted that the native was still behind. He didn't want
to go through that again!
His mind whirred smoothly as he stopped and bought gum. Chewing was
not to his taste, but surmounting his dislike he peeled back the
wrapper and thrust the stick in his mouth. He saved the wrapper and
folded it over the emblem. As he crossed the bridge he tossed it, foil
and all, into the river. Let it yammer away, sinking deeper in the mud
or encysted in a crocodile's belly. Now it couldn't betray him.
But, in a way, it had. In his effort to get rid of the incriminating
article he'd overlooked other things. There was a mind laying heavily
against his. He struggled away, but for every retreat the intruder
advanced.
It wasn't actually entering his thoughts. It stayed outside, gradually
surrounding him. When had the invasion begun? He couldn't say with
precision, but it couldn't have been long ago. It was a heavy mind,
penetrating, not too acute. But it was endowed with brute strength and
it was suggesting thoughts he didn't want to have.
For instance, he felt an intense desire to seek a shady spot beside a
cool stream and lie down. Pleasantly textured grass would ease his skin
and flies would buzz harmoniously near, tickling sensuously as they
stung. Warm and moist. Fluid.
Rains was sweating. He had to shake off this insidious attack.
* * * * *
First, he had to locate the source. Not the AFUA beggar. He was near,
but Rains had already ascertained he wasn't a telepath. The street was
now crowded with men and beasts. That was the trouble; there was no
easy way to pick out his assailant.
Which one? Rains glanced around. The white bearded ascetic next to him?
He was the holy hermit, telepathic type. But so were dozens of others,
most of them with luxuriant white beards. Rains probed, but got no
results.
In America he'd fenced off combined telepathic assaults of the best
of his fellows. He'd expected more competition in India, but this was
beyond his expectation. The defense he'd prepared seemed weak for what
it had to ward off.
An olive-skinned, dark-eyed girl went by with a gliding graceful walk.
With a little help from his imagination he could conjecture every
curve. It was sufficiently distracting. Me plus thee equals whee, he
thought swiftly. But this is hardly a Euclidean proposition, though I
would like our parallel paths to meet.
Was he too hopeful, or did the surrounding thoughts retreat somewhat?
The girl turned and retraced her steps. Me plus thee equals three, her
reply came back firmly. What do you have in mind?
She wasn't thinking along the right lines. There was a mental wedding
scene uncomfortably close. He went on, ignoring her opportunistic
suggestion.
I should have known, she thought frozenly when he didn't respond.
You're looking for another kind of girl. She took herself out of the
picture.
It was dangerous to spread his thoughts around. Something less personal
was in order. Nonsense was reputed to work. He searched and found some,
repeating it silently. I was thinking of a plan to dye my whiskers
green, and always wear so large a fan they never could be seen.
An ascetic, there seemed to be hundreds around, walked by. I was
thinking of a plan--continued Rains, his effort intense--to dye my
whiskers green....
The ascetic bellowed as a cow butted his side and began munching his
beard. A green beard! The Hindu squirmed and twisted loose, backing
away from the cow. The cow lollopped out her tongue and tucked a
whisp of beard into her mouth, chewing away as if on grass, which it
resembled. Purposefully she advanced.
The old Hindu scrambled away, clutching the remains of his beard. It
was now green, but it had been white. Rains could swear he had been
looking at it during the instant of change. The cow lurched after the
old man. She broke into a trot and the trot stretched into a gallop
and the two of them disappeared down the street.
All around there were men with green beards. It wasn't natural. They
stared at each other and then their eyes glided down. Muttering in
foreign tongues they stalked away. Rains could understand their
consternation. What had caused their beards to change? Did it have
anything to do with the rhyme?
But there was something more important. The mind that had been trying
to invade his had gone away. He thought back. The mental influence had
vanished with the cow.
An animal telepath? In India it wasn't totally unexpected. It was
the reason he was here. And the thoughts were those a cow would
have--internal evidence couldn't be ignored. It was frightening that
the cow was a stronger telepath than he, but it was also a source of
relief. At least the animal hadn't filched any secrets from him.
He had another conclusion to allay his anxiety. The girl he'd mentally
whistled at had been able to intercept his thoughts. Learning that he
wasn't interested in what she wanted, she had politely if frigidly
withdrawn. Mental courtesy? Well, why not?
Even in India there weren't many telepaths, say one in five or ten
thousand. But considering the density of population, that was a
lot. They had to evolve a code of mental conduct or life would be
intolerable. No one violated another's thoughts except for good reason.
If he watched himself, Rains thought, he'd have no cause for alarm. No
one would snatch his plans from his mind.
Rains walked on, wondering who or what had changed the white beards
to green. A powerful mind at work, but not the cow; he was certain of
this. Nor the girl.
* * * * *
Rains fished discreetly about. Not the least hint. But the nonsense
rhyme had influenced someone, and that person was now lost to him.
If he'd had the time, Rains would have liked to find and study the
unusual man who'd saved him with that green beard trick. An unorthodox
talent, limited but interesting. After the menace that hung far out
in space was ended, he would come back and search out his unseen
benefactor.
Regretfully Rains cancelled these interesting thoughts, and looked
around for his indefatigable AFUA follower. The man was gone,
despairing at last of wheedling more alms. Or perhaps he'd been
frightened by the strange occurrence on the street.
Rains wandered back to the hotel. Upon approaching it he stopped. The
AFUA line had grown longer, curling around the block, ending almost
where it began. It wouldn't help to go to the back entrance, because
the line was there too.
Rains lowered his head and plunged on toward the front entrance. A hand
touched his elbow. "Guide?" inquired a voice. Someone asking for work,
not money, was unusual.
The voice was faintly familiar. Rains swung around. It was the man
who'd handed back the emblem. For this Rains owed him nothing. And yet
he did. Because of this he'd been forced to find a better means of
disposing of it.
He did need a guide, but he hadn't intended to hire one until he got to
Benares, far to the north, where he hoped his search would end. The man
he had to find was completely unknown, and Rains had only faint clues
to go on, so he'd have to rely on his telepathic power to uncover more
information.
Rains beckoned and the man stepped out of the AFUA line, no recognition
in his eyes. "Let's see your license," Rains said. The man fumbled in
his turban and produced it.
Rains read silently, "Experience one year." Too bad. His mission
couldn't be trusted to a beginner. "I'll think about it," he said,
handing back the card. "If you don't find anything else, be here
tomorrow. I may come out." Tomorrow he'd be on his way to Benares.
The native folded the license into his turban and went back. He was
now at the very end of the line because he'd left his place to follow
Rains. He'd get little tossed to him today, and the coins Rains had
given him wouldn't buy much. Rains could sense despair.
Rains beckoned him back. "Do you have any other skills that might be
useful?" he asked. "What did you do before you became a guide?"
The eyes brightened, then faded in quick defeat. "Nothing you'd want,"
he mumbled. "For ten years I was a dyeman."
Rains thought back to the scene of the mental ambush. Beards. Green
beards. The dyeman had been near at the time.
"Dyeman?" he repeated, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.
Even if it actually had taken place as he thought, it was only a minor
talent. But there was always empathy between psipeople, even though
their abilities might be unrelated. He could expect closer cooperation
from this man than from any other guide he might hire.
"I may be able to use you," he said. "Come in. We'll talk." He'd
discovered a new field for Rhine investigation. They'd mention it in
history books, after they described how he saved the world.
* * * * *
Gowru Chandit accepted the drink gratefully. Rains leaned back and
said, "Is this what you're trying to say? You first noticed your
ability when the dye didn't arrive at the textile factory. You had a
quota to meet. In panic you ran the cloth through anyway, and it came
out the color you wanted."
Gowru nodded.
"Can you tell me how you do it?"
The Hindu looped his hand near his head and shrugged.
Rains nodded. Any other answer would have been surprising. "What did
they say at the factory when you told them?"