"Avram Davidson - Bumberboom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Avram)

them move as the other nodded.
***


They stood upon the lip of the cliff. There down beyond lay the Rift, wide and uneven and
hummocked here and there; and beyond on the other side of the ruins huddled haggardly. Mallian spat
stoutly. "It will be no easy crossing," he observed. "Still, I perceive there is a road of sorts, and cross we
must. Nevertheless..."
He paused so long that Durraneth and Naccanath stirred somewhat restlessly, and the unease
communicated itself to the other Elvers who had ridden out from their near-adjacent city to witness both
arrival and departure.
"What mean you by nevertheless?" Naccanath asked-- perhaps still recollecting this flea-bite, he
reined his horse up a way apart from Bumberboom and its Crew. The way hither had followed no rigid
schedule. The Crew waked to the day when it felt the day full upon it, was by no means immediately
prepared for toil, and made up for its swiftness at eating by its almost pythonic requirements for
post-digestive rests. Naccanath had urgently hinted for more speed; Mal had-- rather less urgently--
passed it on to Captain Mog, and Captain Mog had cursed and kicked and cudgeled... and gotten a
short burst of increased pace... for a moment or so. At intervals.
"By nevertheless," Mallian said, rather slowly, "I mean that there is something which we must do
before we begin to cross." He issued a loud order to Mog, who issued a louder one. Mog knew nothing
of Mallian's quest, nothing of the problem behind Mallian's question. All he knew to the point was that if
Mal asked him to do something and he did not do it, he would be kicked in the head. He had tried a
number of ways to avoid this, but the only one which ever worked was to obey orders. Quickly.
Slowly, therefore, erratically, Bumberboom began to move around until its great muzzle was pointing
toward the Rift. Another order, and the massive gun was unlimbered. Its trail now rested on the ground.
Naccanath cleared his throat, looked at Durraneth. Durraneth returned the look.
"What-- and I point out the extreme civility with which the question is asked-- what is it your intention
to have done now, son Hazelip?"
Mal stroked the points of his beard. "It is my intention to fire the gun," he said.
The horsemen backed up a pace or two or three as though they had practiced the movement. "Fire--
fire Bumberboom?"
"So some call it. Others, I understand, prefer the name of Juggernaut."
One of the Elvers said, "I have not heard that this has been done at all of late." He cleared his throat
twice.
"So much the better for doing it now. The crew wants practice, and no one can object to whatever
damage may be done the Rift."
Naccanath said, rather sharply, "The Rift! It is not the Rift which concerns us-- we are still on Elver
soil, and I consider the possible great damage which may be done thereto... including, and this is no small
consideration, to us-- It would be much better for you to wait until you are already in the Rift."
"No it would not. I desire to calculate a matter called range... a matter of arcane medicine which it will
henceforth be important for me to know... and in particular the trajectory as calculated from an eminence
of land, as it might be a cliff or hill."
The Elvers consulted hurriedly together and then requested that Mallian might delay his calculations
until they were able to get well away from the site. He frowned, gave a short and slightly impatient nod,
and they were off even faster than the two Dwerfymen had gone, the time Mallian had hidden in the
ditch.
"They fear the fatal noise," he said to Zembac Pix, with a twisted grin. "It is as well. The less they see,
the better so. Well. Down goes the large-grained powder as the book directs. Hold firm the ladle,
Zembac Pix. So. So. Smoothly. So." Mallian took the ram and tried to follow the directions so that the
powder was securely back where it should be but not so firmly packed that it would not properly ignite.