Read Online The Brave Free Men by Jack Vance - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jack Vance
Tags: Science-Fiction
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his own freedom at the cost of Finnerack's suffering.
From the house stumbled a thin, crooked man of indeterminate age. His yellow-white hair hung in snarls past his ears. Hillen jerked his thumb toward Etzwane. Finnerack turned to look, and across fifty yards Etzwane felt the hot, blue-white gaze. Slowly,
painfully, as if his legs ached, Finnerack came down the road. Twenty feet behind strolled Hillen, arms casually folded.
Etzwane called out sharply: "Hillen! Go back to the house!"
Hillen appeared not to hear.
Etzwane pointed the pulse-emitter. "Go back!"
Hillen turned and, still holding his arms folded, went slowly back to the house. Finnerack looked back and forth, with a puzzled half-grin, then continued toward Etzwane.
Finnerack halted. "What do you want of me?"
Etzwane searched the corded brown face, seeking the placid Finnerack of old. Finnerack clearly did not recognize him. Etzwane asked, "You are the Jerd Finnerack who served at Angwin Junction?"
"I am and I did."
"How long have you been here?" Etzwane indicated the detention house.
"Five days."
"Why were you brought here?"
"So they could kill me. Why else?"
"But you are still alive."
"True."
"Who is inside?"
"Three prisoners and two keepers."
"Finnerack, you are now a free man."
"Indeed. Who are you?"
"There is a new Anome in the land of Shant. I am his executive assistant. What of the other prisoners? What are their crimes?"
"Three assaults on a guard. I have assaulted only twice; Hillen no longer can count to three."
Etzwane turned to consider Hillen, who hulked morosely in the shade of the detention house. "Hillen carries a dart gun under his arms, or so I suspect. Before my arrival, what was the conduct of the guards?"
"An hour ago they received a message from Camp Three and went to stand by the window with their weapons. Then you arrived. Hillen called to put me out. The rest you know."
Etzwane called to Hillen. "Order the guards outside."
Hillen spoke over his shoulder; two guards came forth, the first fat, the second tall and sallow with docked ears.
Etzwane moved a few slow paces forward. "All three of you—turn your backs and put your hands in the air."
Hillen stared woodenly, as if he had not heard. Etzwane was not deceived. Hillen calculated his chances, which were poor, from any aspect. Hillen disdainfully dropped the dart gun he had somehow managed to obtain. He turned and put his hands into the air. The two guards did likewise.
Etzwane moved somewhat closer. He told Finnerack: "First check the guards for weapons, then release the other prisoners."
Finnerack went to obey. Moments passed, silent except for the whine of insects and a few muffled sounds from within the detention house. The prisoners came forth: pallid, bony men blinking curiously toward Etzwane. "Pick up the dart gun," Etzwane told Finnerack. "Take Hillen and the guards to the cells; lock them up."
With ironic calm Finnerack signaled the three officials—gestures no doubt modeled upon those the officials themselves employed. Hillen, appreciating this, smiled grimly and walked into the detention house.
Whatever his faults, thought Etzwane, Hillen accepted adversity without loss of dignity. Today, from Hillen's point of view, had proved an adverse day indeed.
Etzwane consulted with Finnerack and the other two erstwhile prisoners, then went into the fetid detention house. His stomach jerked at the filth of the cells, in which Hillen and his minions hunched grim and disconsolate.
Etzwane spoke to Hillen: "Before arriving at Camp Three I bore you no ill will, but first you sought to thwart me, then to kill me. Beyond doubt you received instructions from another source. What was that source?"
Hillen only stared with eyes like lead balls.
Etzwane said, "You have made a bad choice." He turned away.
The fat guard, already streaming with sweat, called plaintively: "What of us?"
Etzwane spoke dispassionately, "Neither Finnerack, Jaime, nor Mermiente argues for
From the house stumbled a thin, crooked man of indeterminate age. His yellow-white hair hung in snarls past his ears. Hillen jerked his thumb toward Etzwane. Finnerack turned to look, and across fifty yards Etzwane felt the hot, blue-white gaze. Slowly,
painfully, as if his legs ached, Finnerack came down the road. Twenty feet behind strolled Hillen, arms casually folded.
Etzwane called out sharply: "Hillen! Go back to the house!"
Hillen appeared not to hear.
Etzwane pointed the pulse-emitter. "Go back!"
Hillen turned and, still holding his arms folded, went slowly back to the house. Finnerack looked back and forth, with a puzzled half-grin, then continued toward Etzwane.
Finnerack halted. "What do you want of me?"
Etzwane searched the corded brown face, seeking the placid Finnerack of old. Finnerack clearly did not recognize him. Etzwane asked, "You are the Jerd Finnerack who served at Angwin Junction?"
"I am and I did."
"How long have you been here?" Etzwane indicated the detention house.
"Five days."
"Why were you brought here?"
"So they could kill me. Why else?"
"But you are still alive."
"True."
"Who is inside?"
"Three prisoners and two keepers."
"Finnerack, you are now a free man."
"Indeed. Who are you?"
"There is a new Anome in the land of Shant. I am his executive assistant. What of the other prisoners? What are their crimes?"
"Three assaults on a guard. I have assaulted only twice; Hillen no longer can count to three."
Etzwane turned to consider Hillen, who hulked morosely in the shade of the detention house. "Hillen carries a dart gun under his arms, or so I suspect. Before my arrival, what was the conduct of the guards?"
"An hour ago they received a message from Camp Three and went to stand by the window with their weapons. Then you arrived. Hillen called to put me out. The rest you know."
Etzwane called to Hillen. "Order the guards outside."
Hillen spoke over his shoulder; two guards came forth, the first fat, the second tall and sallow with docked ears.
Etzwane moved a few slow paces forward. "All three of you—turn your backs and put your hands in the air."
Hillen stared woodenly, as if he had not heard. Etzwane was not deceived. Hillen calculated his chances, which were poor, from any aspect. Hillen disdainfully dropped the dart gun he had somehow managed to obtain. He turned and put his hands into the air. The two guards did likewise.
Etzwane moved somewhat closer. He told Finnerack: "First check the guards for weapons, then release the other prisoners."
Finnerack went to obey. Moments passed, silent except for the whine of insects and a few muffled sounds from within the detention house. The prisoners came forth: pallid, bony men blinking curiously toward Etzwane. "Pick up the dart gun," Etzwane told Finnerack. "Take Hillen and the guards to the cells; lock them up."
With ironic calm Finnerack signaled the three officials—gestures no doubt modeled upon those the officials themselves employed. Hillen, appreciating this, smiled grimly and walked into the detention house.
Whatever his faults, thought Etzwane, Hillen accepted adversity without loss of dignity. Today, from Hillen's point of view, had proved an adverse day indeed.
Etzwane consulted with Finnerack and the other two erstwhile prisoners, then went into the fetid detention house. His stomach jerked at the filth of the cells, in which Hillen and his minions hunched grim and disconsolate.
Etzwane spoke to Hillen: "Before arriving at Camp Three I bore you no ill will, but first you sought to thwart me, then to kill me. Beyond doubt you received instructions from another source. What was that source?"
Hillen only stared with eyes like lead balls.
Etzwane said, "You have made a bad choice." He turned away.
The fat guard, already streaming with sweat, called plaintively: "What of us?"
Etzwane spoke dispassionately, "Neither Finnerack, Jaime, nor Mermiente argues for
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