Read Online The Shadow and Night by Chris Walley - Free Book Online Page B

a mistake. In the meantime, he forced himself to follow Arent’s explanation of why it would take at least another twenty years of careful design before it was worthwhile producing the Mark Ten Light Groundfreighter.
    They were winding through the beech woods on what Merral knew was the last ridge before Ynysmere Lake when Arent looked upward through the transparent roof panel. “Tell you what, the clouds have cleared and we are ahead of schedule. Let me put her on nonvisual waveband sensing and slow the speed.”
    The rapid flickering of the tree trunks in the headlights eased. “Now we cut the lights. We should get a great view of the stars and the town.”
    Merral had seen it done before, but found it as impressive as ever. For a moment everything outside was total darkness and then gradually his adapting eyes made out the stars, high, sharp, and diamond brilliant above the rushing black smear of branches, and ahead over the ridge, the golden beacons of the Gate and the sharp, clear pinpoint that was the gas giant planet Fenniran were clearly visible.
    Arent looked upward and spoke in hushed, reverent tones. “Nativity’s Eve, Merral. I always feel somehow that high heaven is that bit nearer tonight. But I suppose that’d be the sort of thing you learned folk would smile at?”
    â€œOh, ‘learned folk’ indeed, Arent!” Merral laughed. “This night of all reminds us of the folly of that idea. I recollect that it was to shepherds in the fields the angels appeared, not to the wise in Jerusalem. Anyway, I’m not as learned as you are on your F-28.”
    â€œTrue enough.”
    â€œAnd you may well be right, I suppose, Arent. High heaven may be nearer to us tonight—but we have no instruments to measure its proximity.” Then, without thinking, he added, “Or that of hell either.”
    He sensed Arent’s face, looking curiously at him in the darkness. “Sorry, Merral. Did you say something?”
    â€œSort of. . . .” He paused, puzzled at where the words had come from. “But I didn’t mean to.”
    There was a long silence as the road flattened, and then they crested the hill. Ahead and below them in a sea of blackness appeared a cone of tiny twinkling points of silver light, as if some sort of faint human echo of the glory above.
    And as he looked carefully at the town of Ynysmant perched on its steep island in the lake, Merral could see how the reflection of the lights shimmered as the lake’s dark waters stirred in the wind.
    Home, he thought, and the word had a peculiar taste of welcome to it that he felt it had never had before.
    Merral left the freighter at the island end of the causeway, thanked Arent, and half walked and half ran up the winding steps into the town. With it being Nativity’s Eve there were many groups on their way to parties and concerts, and Merral picked up a sense of excitement in the air.
    The lights were on at his house, a narrow three-story unit in the middle of a sinuous terrace with overhanging eaves. Merral pushed open the door, vaguely surprised to find the hall and kitchen empty. There was ample evidence of recent cooking with a tray of small jam cakes on the side table, and the smell made him realize suddenly how hungry he was. Putting his bag down, he took off his jacket and slung it on a chair. He was suddenly aware of feeling tired and sweaty. It had, he decided, been a long day. Eventually the smell of the cakes was too much for him and he helped himself to one, putting it whole in his mouth and finding it as delicious as he had expected. As he stood there, he heard talking in the general room beyond and, swallowing the last cake fragments, pushed the door open.
    His mother, dressed in a skirt and blouse patterned with flowers, rose from her chair suddenly at his entry. She gave a little cry of “Merral,” came over, and kissed him warmly. As they broke free from each