Read Online Planet of Adventure Omnibus by Jack Vance - Free Book Online
Authors: Jack Vance
Ads: Link
brought
all these races to Tschai?” Reith asked-a rhetorical question, for he knew that
Traz would have no answer; and Traz gave only a shrug in reply.
They came to
mounds of silted-over rubble, slabs of tip-tilted concrete, shards of glass:
the outskirts of the city.
Traz stopped
short, listened, craned his neck uneasily, brought his catapult to the ready.
Reith, looking about, could see nothing threatening; slowly they moved on, into
the heart of the ruins. The old structures, once lofty halls and grand palaces,
were toppled, decayed, with only a few white pillars, posts, pedestals lifting
into the dark Tschai sky. Between were platforms and piazzas of wind-scoured
stone and concrete.
In the central
plaza a fountain bubbled up from an underground spring or aquifer. Traz
approached with great circumspection. “How can there fail to be Phung?” he
muttered. “Even now-” and he scrutinized the tumbled masonry around the plaza
with great care. Reith tasted the water, then drank. Traz, however, hung back. “A
Phung has been here.”
Reith could
see no evidence of the fact. “How do you know?”
Traz gave a
half-diffident shrug, reluctant to expatiate upon a matter so obvious. His
attention was diverted to another more urgent matter; he looked apprehensively
around the sky, sensing something below the threshold of Reith’s perceptions.
Suddenly he pointed. “The Dirdir boat!” They took shelter under an overhanging
slab of concrete; a moment later the flyer skimmed so close above that they
could hear the swish of air from the repulsors.
The flyer
swung in a great circle, returned to hover over the plaza at a height of two
hundred yards.
“Strange,”
whispered Traz. “It’s almost as if they know we’re here.”
“They may be searching
the ground with an infrared screen,” whispered Reith. “On Earth we can track a
man by the warmth of his footprints.”
The flyer
floated off to the west, then gathered speed and disappeared. Traz and Reith
went back out upon the plaza. Reith drank more water, relishing the cold
clarity after three days of watak sap. Traz preferred to hunt the large
roach-like insects which lived among the rubble. These he skinned with a quick
jerk of the fingers and ate with relish. Reith was not sufficiently hungry to
join him.
The sun sank
behind broken columns and shattered arches; a peach-colored haze hung over the
steppe which Traz thought to be a portent of changing weather. For fear of
rain, Reith wished to take shelter under a slab, but Traz would not hear of it.
“The Phung! They would sniff us out!” He selected a pedestal rising thirty feet
above a crumbled staircase as a secure place to pass the night. Reith looked
glumly at a bank of clouds coming up from the south but made no further
protest. The two carried up armloads of twigs and fronds for a bed.
The sun sank;
the ancient city became dim. Into the plaza wandered a man, reeling with
fatigue. He rushed to the fountain and drank greedily.
Reith brought
out his scanscope. The man was tall, slender, with long legs and arms, a long
sallow head quite bald, round eyes, a small button nose, minute ears. He wore
the tatters of a once-elegant garment of pink and blue and black; on his head
was an extravagant confection of pink puffs and black ribbons. “Dirdirman,” whispered
Traz, and bringing forth his catapult, took aim.
“Wait!”
protested Reith. “What do you do?”
“Kill him, of
course.”
“He is not
harming us! Why not give the poor devil his life?”
“He only
lacks the opportunity,” grumbled Traz, but he put aside the catapult. The
Dirdirman, turning away from the fountain, looked carefully around the plaza.
“He seems to
be lost,” muttered Reith. “I wonder if the Dirdir boat was seeking him. Could
he be a fugitive?”
Traz
shrugged. “Perhaps; who knows?”
The Dirdirman
came wearily across the plaza and took shelter only a few yards from the foot
of the pedestal, where he wrapped himself
all these races to Tschai?” Reith asked-a rhetorical question, for he knew that
Traz would have no answer; and Traz gave only a shrug in reply.
They came to
mounds of silted-over rubble, slabs of tip-tilted concrete, shards of glass:
the outskirts of the city.
Traz stopped
short, listened, craned his neck uneasily, brought his catapult to the ready.
Reith, looking about, could see nothing threatening; slowly they moved on, into
the heart of the ruins. The old structures, once lofty halls and grand palaces,
were toppled, decayed, with only a few white pillars, posts, pedestals lifting
into the dark Tschai sky. Between were platforms and piazzas of wind-scoured
stone and concrete.
In the central
plaza a fountain bubbled up from an underground spring or aquifer. Traz
approached with great circumspection. “How can there fail to be Phung?” he
muttered. “Even now-” and he scrutinized the tumbled masonry around the plaza
with great care. Reith tasted the water, then drank. Traz, however, hung back. “A
Phung has been here.”
Reith could
see no evidence of the fact. “How do you know?”
Traz gave a
half-diffident shrug, reluctant to expatiate upon a matter so obvious. His
attention was diverted to another more urgent matter; he looked apprehensively
around the sky, sensing something below the threshold of Reith’s perceptions.
Suddenly he pointed. “The Dirdir boat!” They took shelter under an overhanging
slab of concrete; a moment later the flyer skimmed so close above that they
could hear the swish of air from the repulsors.
The flyer
swung in a great circle, returned to hover over the plaza at a height of two
hundred yards.
“Strange,”
whispered Traz. “It’s almost as if they know we’re here.”
“They may be searching
the ground with an infrared screen,” whispered Reith. “On Earth we can track a
man by the warmth of his footprints.”
The flyer
floated off to the west, then gathered speed and disappeared. Traz and Reith
went back out upon the plaza. Reith drank more water, relishing the cold
clarity after three days of watak sap. Traz preferred to hunt the large
roach-like insects which lived among the rubble. These he skinned with a quick
jerk of the fingers and ate with relish. Reith was not sufficiently hungry to
join him.
The sun sank
behind broken columns and shattered arches; a peach-colored haze hung over the
steppe which Traz thought to be a portent of changing weather. For fear of
rain, Reith wished to take shelter under a slab, but Traz would not hear of it.
“The Phung! They would sniff us out!” He selected a pedestal rising thirty feet
above a crumbled staircase as a secure place to pass the night. Reith looked
glumly at a bank of clouds coming up from the south but made no further
protest. The two carried up armloads of twigs and fronds for a bed.
The sun sank;
the ancient city became dim. Into the plaza wandered a man, reeling with
fatigue. He rushed to the fountain and drank greedily.
Reith brought
out his scanscope. The man was tall, slender, with long legs and arms, a long
sallow head quite bald, round eyes, a small button nose, minute ears. He wore
the tatters of a once-elegant garment of pink and blue and black; on his head
was an extravagant confection of pink puffs and black ribbons. “Dirdirman,” whispered
Traz, and bringing forth his catapult, took aim.
“Wait!”
protested Reith. “What do you do?”
“Kill him, of
course.”
“He is not
harming us! Why not give the poor devil his life?”
“He only
lacks the opportunity,” grumbled Traz, but he put aside the catapult. The
Dirdirman, turning away from the fountain, looked carefully around the plaza.
“He seems to
be lost,” muttered Reith. “I wonder if the Dirdir boat was seeking him. Could
he be a fugitive?”
Traz
shrugged. “Perhaps; who knows?”
The Dirdirman
came wearily across the plaza and took shelter only a few yards from the foot
of the pedestal, where he wrapped himself
Similar Books
