Read Online This Fortress World by James Gunn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Gunn
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what to do with it, my employers and I. You don't. More important, it was on its way to me when the girl discovered that Sabatini and his Agents were on her trail."
"How can I believe that," I asked skeptically, "when you don't even know what it is."
Siller smiled, mockingly. "It's a small pebble made of clear crystal. A Peddler found it among some ruins on a small planet of the periphery. There were no inhabitants, only ruins. And the ruins were old, old beyond description. They indicated that the vanished race had space flight and a considerable degree of civilization. The Peddler found the pebble, wanted it, and took it, suspecting that it held a valuable secret. Word leaked out when he landed on Brancusi. He was killed; his crew was slaughtered; the location of the world was lost. But the pebble turned up in the hands of the Emperor. He guarded it jealously, but yesterday it was stolen from the palace."
I listened. The information might be useful, if it was correct, but it proved nothing. "How do I know that the girl was bringing it to you? What was her name—?"
"Her name was Frieda. She was the Emperor's latest favorite." Siller described the girl and her relationship to the Emperor and what she was wearing when she left the palace. I listened with a strange, sick feeling growing in my stomach.
"It's not proof," I said, swallowing hard. "Sabatini would have known all this. And even if she was going to give it to you, why should I?"
"What do you want, man, documents?" he asked. His voice was rising. "You may have the pebble, but you'll never have anything else. You won't even stay alive very long. Give it to me!"
I shook my head bewilderedly. "I can't."
"Why?" Siller screamed. "Doesn't your life matter to you? Wouldn't you like to get away from Brancusi? Start life over? The pebble means nothing to you.…"
The pebble meant nothing to me. The pebble had put me here now; it had lost me my hope of priesthood and given me terror instead and the threat of death and torture; it had made me kill three men. But more than that—I couldn't give it up.
"I can't!" I said. "It means—You wouldn't understand." He wouldn't. He couldn't. That was the one thing about him I was certain of.
He glared at me, white-faced.
"You've been kind to me," I said apologetically. "You've risked a lot to hide me. But if you expect me to give up the pebble because of that, I have no right to stay here any longer."
I got up from my chair and walked slowly toward the door. Here for a brief moment had been sanctuary. In less than a day I had come to look on Siller's suite as a second monastery, a refuge from the world. The day's training in self-defense had been academic, unrelated to reality. Now.…
"Don't be a fool, Dane," Siller said with great disgust. "You're not leaving." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Unless you get smart, you're never going to leave."
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Chapter Six
I stiffened, my hand against the door. I pressed against it. But I realized, even before it refused to move, that it was locked. I turned around to face him. He was there, just in front of me. His hand dipped into my jacket and came out with my gun. Contemptuously he turned his head and tossed the gun onto the davenport in the middle of the room.
Panic washed over me. I swung my left arm around backhanded and slapped him across the face. My hands reached for his shoulders, to grab him, to shake him…
"Let me out!" I shouted. "Let—"
Something cold and pointed touched me just below the ribs. I looked down, suddenly chilled, my belly sucked in. The eight-inch blade of his dagger was at my diaphragm. My hands dropped.
He raised one hand to his reddening cheek and stroked it reflectively, but his eyes were glittering. "I should kill you for that," he said quietly.
I waited for him to push. I waited for the cold steel to force its way into my body and lick out my life with a hard tongue. Suddenly the pressure was released. Siller
"How can I believe that," I asked skeptically, "when you don't even know what it is."
Siller smiled, mockingly. "It's a small pebble made of clear crystal. A Peddler found it among some ruins on a small planet of the periphery. There were no inhabitants, only ruins. And the ruins were old, old beyond description. They indicated that the vanished race had space flight and a considerable degree of civilization. The Peddler found the pebble, wanted it, and took it, suspecting that it held a valuable secret. Word leaked out when he landed on Brancusi. He was killed; his crew was slaughtered; the location of the world was lost. But the pebble turned up in the hands of the Emperor. He guarded it jealously, but yesterday it was stolen from the palace."
I listened. The information might be useful, if it was correct, but it proved nothing. "How do I know that the girl was bringing it to you? What was her name—?"
"Her name was Frieda. She was the Emperor's latest favorite." Siller described the girl and her relationship to the Emperor and what she was wearing when she left the palace. I listened with a strange, sick feeling growing in my stomach.
"It's not proof," I said, swallowing hard. "Sabatini would have known all this. And even if she was going to give it to you, why should I?"
"What do you want, man, documents?" he asked. His voice was rising. "You may have the pebble, but you'll never have anything else. You won't even stay alive very long. Give it to me!"
I shook my head bewilderedly. "I can't."
"Why?" Siller screamed. "Doesn't your life matter to you? Wouldn't you like to get away from Brancusi? Start life over? The pebble means nothing to you.…"
The pebble meant nothing to me. The pebble had put me here now; it had lost me my hope of priesthood and given me terror instead and the threat of death and torture; it had made me kill three men. But more than that—I couldn't give it up.
"I can't!" I said. "It means—You wouldn't understand." He wouldn't. He couldn't. That was the one thing about him I was certain of.
He glared at me, white-faced.
"You've been kind to me," I said apologetically. "You've risked a lot to hide me. But if you expect me to give up the pebble because of that, I have no right to stay here any longer."
I got up from my chair and walked slowly toward the door. Here for a brief moment had been sanctuary. In less than a day I had come to look on Siller's suite as a second monastery, a refuge from the world. The day's training in self-defense had been academic, unrelated to reality. Now.…
"Don't be a fool, Dane," Siller said with great disgust. "You're not leaving." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Unless you get smart, you're never going to leave."
| Go to Table of Contents |
Chapter Six
I stiffened, my hand against the door. I pressed against it. But I realized, even before it refused to move, that it was locked. I turned around to face him. He was there, just in front of me. His hand dipped into my jacket and came out with my gun. Contemptuously he turned his head and tossed the gun onto the davenport in the middle of the room.
Panic washed over me. I swung my left arm around backhanded and slapped him across the face. My hands reached for his shoulders, to grab him, to shake him…
"Let me out!" I shouted. "Let—"
Something cold and pointed touched me just below the ribs. I looked down, suddenly chilled, my belly sucked in. The eight-inch blade of his dagger was at my diaphragm. My hands dropped.
He raised one hand to his reddening cheek and stroked it reflectively, but his eyes were glittering. "I should kill you for that," he said quietly.
I waited for him to push. I waited for the cold steel to force its way into my body and lick out my life with a hard tongue. Suddenly the pressure was released. Siller
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