Read Online Landfall: Tales From the Flood/Ark Universe by Stephen Baxter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephen Baxter
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herds that pass at the equinoxes. Dried, salted. We have dried fruit, wheat, the harvest from the spring and autumn.’
‘How many are you?’ Teif growled.
‘Not many. You can see.’
‘Why live here?’ Manda said. ‘Why raise your children in a hole in the ground?’
‘Our forefathers came here to get away from the cities. This is our land, our place. Our way.’
‘It is a remarkable feat of adaptation,’ Chan said.
Eykyn eyed Xaia. ‘You’re far from home.’
‘I’m seeking the City of the Living Dead.’
Eykyn shrugged.
Xaia said, ‘If it exists, it’s north of here. Do you know how far north?’
‘Couldn’t say. Never been there. Never met anybody who has.’
‘Do you believe it exists?’
‘Couldn’t say.’
Chan asked, ‘How many live like this, further north yet?’
‘Couldn’t say. None, so far as I know.’
Teif asked, ‘Do you think it’s worth going on, hunting the City?’
He smiled that broken smile. ‘If you do, come back this way. We’ll make you welcome.’ He held out the meat plates. ‘Look, do you want this or not?’
So they ate, and washed their faces in the meltwater that trickled from a pipe in the wall, and, self-conscious, used the corner of the dwelling marked out as a lavatory. The natives stayed away, though the children brought them more food.
To some unspoken signal, Eykyn and his people retreated to their own heaps of straw and fur.
It was a relief for Xaia to spread out her cloak on her pile of dry summer straw, and ease her boots off and tend to her feet, rubbing the sore patches and work at calluses and blisters; mercifully she was still free of frostbite. She found she couldn’t bear to have the rabbit-fur blankets Eykyn had given them anywhere near her body. She made a pile of her own clothes and burrowed into it.
The whole chamber was like a nest, full of breaths, sighs, farts, the rustling of straw as adults and children tried to get comfortable. Perhaps she slept.
‘They are like animals.’
The whisper, soft in her ear, startled her awake. There was a mass in the bed with her, warm, heavy. She reached for her blade, under the heaped jacket she was using as a pillow.
A hand touched her bare shoulder, a callused palm. ‘It’s all right.’
‘Manda? What the hell?’
Manda kneaded her shoulder, her hand strong. She was behind Xaia, and snuggled closer; Xaia felt the pressure of her belly against her back, her knees in the crook of her own. ‘I was cold. Couldn’t bear those piss-soaked furs.’
‘No.’ Xaia laughed softly. ‘Nor I. Stay, then.’
Manda’s hand slid down Xaia’s arm, caressing.
Xaia came even wider awake. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Do you ever feel as if you are the only human beings in the world? You and I, Xaia. Listen to them.’ Soft snores, a scuffling as if somebody was humping somebody else. ‘They are animals. Like pigs. Even Teif. They turn into animals when they sleep. But not us. We don’t need them.’ Her hand slid over Xaia’s waist.
Xaia, thrilled, uneasy, didn’t want her to stop. ‘Need them? I don’t understand.’
‘You don’t need Thom. Not any more. Not after this. You have an Orb , the Orb you took from Ossay Lange. A Founder’s Orb, the fifteenth, as valid as the fourteen that dangle from Thom’s fat neck. And you didn’t just have it handed to you by your uncle, like Thom. You found your Orb yourself, you risked your own life -’
‘And spent the lives of others.’
‘You can rule in your own right. We don’t need these others, Thom grunting like a pig over you.’ Her hand slid over Xaia’s breast, hard-palmed, almost like a man’s, and Xaia’s body shuddered with shock and desire. ‘We can rule Zeeland, you and I, Zeeland and the Scatter and the Belt and the rest of the world, forever -’ The word ended in a throaty gurgle. She convulsed, her hand gripping Xaia’s flesh so hard it hurt.
And Xaia felt a seeping of warm fluid, smelled
‘How many are you?’ Teif growled.
‘Not many. You can see.’
‘Why live here?’ Manda said. ‘Why raise your children in a hole in the ground?’
‘Our forefathers came here to get away from the cities. This is our land, our place. Our way.’
‘It is a remarkable feat of adaptation,’ Chan said.
Eykyn eyed Xaia. ‘You’re far from home.’
‘I’m seeking the City of the Living Dead.’
Eykyn shrugged.
Xaia said, ‘If it exists, it’s north of here. Do you know how far north?’
‘Couldn’t say. Never been there. Never met anybody who has.’
‘Do you believe it exists?’
‘Couldn’t say.’
Chan asked, ‘How many live like this, further north yet?’
‘Couldn’t say. None, so far as I know.’
Teif asked, ‘Do you think it’s worth going on, hunting the City?’
He smiled that broken smile. ‘If you do, come back this way. We’ll make you welcome.’ He held out the meat plates. ‘Look, do you want this or not?’
So they ate, and washed their faces in the meltwater that trickled from a pipe in the wall, and, self-conscious, used the corner of the dwelling marked out as a lavatory. The natives stayed away, though the children brought them more food.
To some unspoken signal, Eykyn and his people retreated to their own heaps of straw and fur.
It was a relief for Xaia to spread out her cloak on her pile of dry summer straw, and ease her boots off and tend to her feet, rubbing the sore patches and work at calluses and blisters; mercifully she was still free of frostbite. She found she couldn’t bear to have the rabbit-fur blankets Eykyn had given them anywhere near her body. She made a pile of her own clothes and burrowed into it.
The whole chamber was like a nest, full of breaths, sighs, farts, the rustling of straw as adults and children tried to get comfortable. Perhaps she slept.
‘They are like animals.’
The whisper, soft in her ear, startled her awake. There was a mass in the bed with her, warm, heavy. She reached for her blade, under the heaped jacket she was using as a pillow.
A hand touched her bare shoulder, a callused palm. ‘It’s all right.’
‘Manda? What the hell?’
Manda kneaded her shoulder, her hand strong. She was behind Xaia, and snuggled closer; Xaia felt the pressure of her belly against her back, her knees in the crook of her own. ‘I was cold. Couldn’t bear those piss-soaked furs.’
‘No.’ Xaia laughed softly. ‘Nor I. Stay, then.’
Manda’s hand slid down Xaia’s arm, caressing.
Xaia came even wider awake. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Do you ever feel as if you are the only human beings in the world? You and I, Xaia. Listen to them.’ Soft snores, a scuffling as if somebody was humping somebody else. ‘They are animals. Like pigs. Even Teif. They turn into animals when they sleep. But not us. We don’t need them.’ Her hand slid over Xaia’s waist.
Xaia, thrilled, uneasy, didn’t want her to stop. ‘Need them? I don’t understand.’
‘You don’t need Thom. Not any more. Not after this. You have an Orb , the Orb you took from Ossay Lange. A Founder’s Orb, the fifteenth, as valid as the fourteen that dangle from Thom’s fat neck. And you didn’t just have it handed to you by your uncle, like Thom. You found your Orb yourself, you risked your own life -’
‘And spent the lives of others.’
‘You can rule in your own right. We don’t need these others, Thom grunting like a pig over you.’ Her hand slid over Xaia’s breast, hard-palmed, almost like a man’s, and Xaia’s body shuddered with shock and desire. ‘We can rule Zeeland, you and I, Zeeland and the Scatter and the Belt and the rest of the world, forever -’ The word ended in a throaty gurgle. She convulsed, her hand gripping Xaia’s flesh so hard it hurt.
And Xaia felt a seeping of warm fluid, smelled
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