"Anderson, Poul - Fire Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Poul)

He was glad that the legion he meant to throw out of this land was the Zera, not his old Tamburu Strider.

Of course, the latter might chance to come here as reinforcement. But that was beyond likelihood. One by one, the Gathering was abandoning its outer territories, as civilizations did each thousand years when the Stormkindler returned. Let Valennen be lost, and the Gathering would hardly try to regain it ... even though this would presently mean the fall of the Fiery Sea islands, and thereafter-

Unless the humans- What could a male really know about beings more eldritch than the dauri, beings from so far away that their sun was lost to sight-if that story of theirs, or any other, could be believed-?

Arnanak clutched the hilt of the sword sheathed at his torso. If he had heard, and understood, and guessed aright, the humans would be too busy around Sehala to help in this remote outpost. Foreign as they were, they shouldn't grasp the meaning of the Valenneners' advance until too late. Then .. - why should they not be willing to deal with the High Overling? He would have more power, more to offer, than the shards of the Gathering.

If Arnanak had caught the truth and planned well.

If not, he would die, and most of his people with him. But Fire Time would have kilted them anyhow, in worse ways than battle. Arnanak let go the sword and gave himself to making haste down the stony, scored Hanks of the hilts.

Travel was easier in the flatlands. On orders from their chief, the warriors stayed off a trade trail along the river, save twice when they slipped thither to quench thirst and lave their skin-plants. They might have met a patrol, a few of whom might escape to give the alarm. Instead they trotted cross-country.

The fields there were free of brush if not of thorn fences. Taught by the towndwellers, folk hereabouts had been cultivators for two or three sixty-four-years. Speargrain, breadroot, and tame animals grew well. But come Fire Time, farms where food was would draw more hungry raiders than the legion coutd handle, until weather destroyed crops and cattle from the gentler climes of Beronnen. The cultivators were leaving their homes while a chance remained to take up different ways of life. Arnanak's band met no one in the few steadings it passed. However, pasture was not yet completely ruined; the fighters foraged sparingly as they went.

The east had lightened when they swung back toward the stream. Black ahead of them, limned against western stars and moon-shimmer on water, bulked the walls and watchtowers ofTarhanna. Leaders uttered low-voiced commands to halt and arm quickly, before the Demon Sun rose and betrayed them to yonder sentries.

By now, air and soil were nearly cool. The Invader would not by itself bring back great heat. Though somewhat larger in the sky than the True Sun when passing nearest the world, it gave less brightness and warmthabout a fifth as much, a philosopher in Sehala had once told Arnanak. Indeed, the worst part of a Fire Time came after the Marauder was again outward bound.

Still, by True noon today, when it set, the plain would be fevered. (And this was only spring, in an early year of the evil!) Arnanak hoped to be inside the town before then. Whether or not he would be out of his armor depended on the garrison. He believed the legionaries would surrender on promise of being allowed to depart disarmed. Civilized soldiers reckoned it an empty bravery to die in a tost cause. But their captain might decide death was worthwhile for the sake of killing as many barbarians as might be.

Well, then the bone kettles would seethe; and kindred from end to end of South Valennen would join the Overling of Ulu in revengefulness.

He unpacked his kit, fastened helm and mail to his body with the help of his standard-bearer, took shield on arm. The bad dawn broke, crimson across the land. Arnanak lifted his sword to grab that tight. "Come!" he roared. "Attack and win!" He trotted into a run. Behind him the ground drummed under the weight and haste of his warriors.



TWO



THE DOOR CHIMED. "Entre," called Yuri Dejerine. Rising, he waved the phonoplay to silence. Had it been drawing something classical from the data bank-a piece of Mozart, say, or a raga concert-he would have reduced the sound level to a gentle background. But most humans dislike Gean music, all of it, never mind that that planet has as old and wide a variety of traditions as ever did Earth. To understand, one needs the interest from which springs patience, plus a good ear.

The door admitted a young man whose uniform bore air corps pursuit squadron insignia. They shone very new, and his salute was a bit awkward. He handled himself well in Lunar gravity, though; he wouldn't have qualified for his service if he weren't more quickly weightadaptable than most. His frame was tall and powerful, his face handsome in a blond Caucasoid mode. Dejerine wondered whether he really bore subtle indications of having been bom and reared beyond the Solar System. Knowing he was, an observer could too easily read clues into a look, a stance, or a gait.

Accents were more reliable. Dejerine spared his visitor wrestling with Spanish by taking the word in English:

"Ensign Conway? At ease. In fact, relax. It was good of you to come."

"The captain sent for me." Yes, Conway did speak an odd brand of the language, markedly different from Dejerine's pan-European version. It was the dialect of a people whose mother tongue this had been for a long time, but carrying a softness and a lilt that were . -. partly nonhuman?

"I requested you visit me, only requested." The door having closed, Dejerine astounded the other by extending a hand. After an instant, the clasp took place. "You can do me a large personal favor, and conceivably Earth too. Perhaps I can make a return, but that isn't certain. What is certain is that we both ship out quite shortly, and I am taking time you could spend with the girls or enjoying several unique sports. The least I can do is give you a drink." He took Conway's elbow and guided him to a lounger opposite his own, while he chatted on. "That's why I suggested we meet in my quarters. A dormitory or clubroom is too unprivate, an office too austere. What would you like?"

Donald Conway sat down under the arm-pressure- "I ... whatever the captain wishes, thank you, sir," he gulped.

Dejerine stood over him and smiled. "Do fall free. Forget rank. We're strictly alone, and I'm not a lot older than you. What is your age-?"

"Nineteen-I mean twenty-one, sir."