[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.She repeated, “Long dead…”When Aster took her leave, she and Fremant kissed briefly outside the door.He took some breaths of fresh air before reentering the stuffy room.BELLAMIA SAID TO FREMANT, “Mayhap I should not tell you this, but that young lady is the mistress of Astaroth, as she tells you.What she does not boast about is that she is his daughter as well.”“It can’t be!” He was aghast.With contempt, the old woman replied, “What you mean, ‘It can’t be’? You’re soft in the head, my man.Many things as should not be can be.It’s one of that kind I’m telling you about—one of that kind!”DAWN, TWO DAYS LATER.High in the southern sky, casting pale shadows, sailed Stygia’s six little broken moons, product of the cosmic collision of which the Shawl was also a result.Fremant was on his way to report for duty at the Center.As he passed through the echoing empty squares, he began to suspect that someone was following him.When he turned the next corner, he stopped there, shoulders to the wall, waiting.Sure enough, in a moment, another man turned the corner, a tall, thin man with a stoop.Fremant struck him hard on the side of his skull with his right fist.The man’s jaw fell open.He sank to his knees and collapsed.Fremant dragged the man into a side alley and sat astride him.“Okay, you funker, whose side are you on?”The man muttered something incomprehensible.“Speak clearly or I’ll poke your eyes out.Who are you?”“Name’s Webshider.Let me up, dammit!”“Who’s paying you to tail me?” As he was asking, he was searching in Webshider’s pockets.He found some stigs and pocketed them.From an inner concealment he fished out a bone-handled knife with a curved blade.He flung it far down the alley.“Come on, who’s paying you?”“No one.It’s voluntary.Let me up.Please.”“You were going to kill me, you scum! For the last time, who are you working for?” He shook the man’s throat until his skull rattled against the paving stone.“The Clandestines.The Clandestines, all right?”Fremant smacked him across the chops.“Those useless wretches? Look, if I spare your life, you’ll go slinking back to them and their nameless god.Tell them from me they are crap.Tell them they should mingle with the ordinary population to foment discontent, get it? Not just hide out across the lake, get it? Foment discontent, get people to understand they can demonstrate in force, get it? One big demonstration and we can kick Astaroth out, get it?”Each “get it?” was accompanied by a fist in Webshider’s ribs.“You’ll never manage to kick Astaroth out, you bully,” the man gasped.“Try it!”“You’ll never manage it because the people here are—I dunno—sort of sick after the long journey and Reconstitution.”He propped the thin man up and rested his back against the wall.“You’re saying there was something the matter with the LPR, the Life Process Reservoir?”“How do I know?” the other responded.“It’s possible, ain’t it? Or else this planet don’t agree with us.Maybe there’s some sort of germ in the air that—”“You scum! You’re sick.” He gave the shuddering face another slap.“We’re all sick, you bluggerate—because we are dumped here to live among aliens and insects.”The notion struck a chord in Fremant’s mind.“It’s a rule of life—we all have to live among strangers…Get yourself back to that Habander feller and tell him what I’ve said, okay?”He stood up and watched alertly as Webshider struggled slowly to his feet, gasping and groaning.He was not a fighting man.Fremant gave him a kick in his rear as he slouched off.He then hurried in the direction of the Center, afraid of reporting in late.THREETHE ROSY-FACED STABLE MAID, Breeth, made Fremant and Tunderkin bowls of sweet otz, which she cooked over a little fire in the tack room.After that, they brought out the horses and brushed them down under the pale sky.High above their heads rode one of the six moons.“How do you call that moon?” Fremant asked.His mood was still bad from the fight in the alley, and his knuckles hurt.“Why, ’tis Brother, of course,” said Breeth with a smile.“How come you don’t know that?”“So you know the names of all the moons?”“Indeed I do, as do everyone, ’cos they’re all named the same.” She laughed.“It’s Brother the lot of them, ain’t it?”“But they’re all different.”“No, you silly, they’re all moons.”Pulling Hengriss from the stable to make the beast piss in the yard, Tunderkin said, “Got to be extra care with this one.This one is Essanits’s steed.”“What difference does that make?” Fremant asked.“My old gran knew the types of folks she met with.You, Fremant, you’re always asking questions, you’d be the Eternal Stranger.”He thought the observation was acute.He was eternally a stranger, even to himself.“And how would your old gran typecast Astaroth?”“Mad stallion…”They began to brush down the horses.The animals stood still, their sides heaving in and out as they breathed through them, unaware their lives were passing, unaware even that they were alive in the full sense of the word.“You ask too many questions.You’ll get in trouble.” Tunderkin ducked his head below the flank of Hengriss, to say in a low tone, “My old gran was one who saw into men’s minds.She’d say them as are tortured are the torturers.Now, shut your face and let’s get these beasts saddled up for morning inspection [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]