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When he straightened, he stood blinking at an utterly different landscape.
The road he d landed in curved sharply before and behind him; since it also
ran between tall hedges he couldn t see much, only the tops of some low twisty
trees whose foliage had thinned with the onrush of the year; withered remnants
of small fruits clung to the top-most branches. Real trees, like those in-his
homeplace, not the feathery blue analogs on the road he d been fol-lowing an
instant before. A raptor circled high over-head, songbirds twittered nearby,
distractingly familiar; he listened and thought he could put a name to most of
them. Insects hummed in the hedges and crawled through dusty gray-green grass.
A black leaper as long as his thumb sprang out of the dust, landed briefly on
his toe, sprang off again. He sucked on his teeth, kicked at the nearest rut,
sent pale alkali dust spraying before him. If the sun were a bit ruddier and
had a marble-sized blue companion, this could have been Rainbow s End. But it
was egg-yellow and solitary, and it was low in what he thought was the west
and its light had a weary feel, so he shouldn t waste what was left on the day
boggling at what had happened to him. He took one step backward, then another,
but the fold in spacetime that brought him here seemed a oneway gate. He
shrugged. Not much he could do about that. He knelt in the dust and inspected
the ruts. Inexpert as he was at this sort of tracking, it seemed to him that
the heav-iest traffic went the way he was facing. Which was vaguely northeast
(if he was right about the sun). He straightened, brushed himself off, and
started walking, accepting this jarring change in his circumstances as calmly
Page 55
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
as he accepted most events in his life.
Cradled in a warm noisy crowded line family, al-ways someone to pick him up
and cuddle him when he stubbed a toe or stumbled into more serious trou-ble,
he had acquired a sense of security that nothing since had more than dented
(though he d wandered in and out of danger a dozen times and come close to
dying more than once from an excess of optimism); he d learned to defend
himself, more because of his internal need to push any skill he learned to the
limits of his ability than because he felt any strong desire to stomp his
enemies. It was easier not to make enemies. If a situation got out of hand and
nothing he could do would defuse it, he generally slid away and left the
argument to those who enjoyed arguing.
One time a lover asked him, Don t you want to do something constructive with
your life? He thought about it for a while, then he said, No.
You ought to, she said, irritation sharpening her voice, there s more to
living than just being alive.
He gazed at her, sighed, shook his head and not long after that shipped out on
the Hairy Mule.
He swung along easily through a late afternoon where heat hung in a yellow
haze over the land and the road was the only sign of habitation; he wasn t in
a hurry though he was starting to get thirsty. He searched through the dozens
of pockets in his long leather overvest, found an ancient dusty peppermint,
popped it into his mouth. A road led somewhere and he d get there if he kept
walking. The sun continued to decline and eventually set; he checked his
pocket-chron, did some calculations of angular shift and decided that the
daylength was close to shipstandard, another way this world was like Rainbow s
End.
He kept on after night closed about him; no point in camping unless he found
water, besides the air was warm and a gibbous moon with a chunk bitten out of
the top rose shortly after sunset and spread a pearly light across the land.
Sounds drifted to him on a strengthening breeze. A mule s bray. Another. A
chorus of mules. Ring of metal on metal. Assorted anonymous tunks and thuds.
As he drew closer to the source, the sounds of laughter and voices, many of
them children s voices. He rounded a bend and found a large party camped
beside a canal. Ten carts backed up under the trees. A crowd of mules (bay,
roan and blue) wearing hobbles and herded inside rope corrals, chewing at hay
and grain and each other, threatening, kicking and biting with an energy that
made nothing of the day s labors. Two hundred children seated around half a
dozen fires. Fifteen adults visible. Eight women, dressed in voluminous
trousers, tunics reach-ing to midcalf with long sleeves and wide cuffs,
head-cloths that could double as veils. Seven men with shorter tunics and
trousers that fit closer to the body, made from the same cloth the women used
(a dark tan home-spun, heavy and hot), leather hats with floppy brims and
fancy bands, leather boots and gloves.
They also had three bobtail spears slanted across their backs and
what looked like cavalry sabers
swinging from broad leather belts; several carried quarterstaffs. The
last were prowl-ing about the circumference of the camp, keeping a
stern eye on the children while the women were finishing preparations
for supper.
One of the men walked over to him. Keep moving, friend. We don t want company
here.
Daniel Akamarino blinked. Whatever or whoever had brought him here had
operated on his head in the instant between worlds; he wasn t sure he liked
that though it was convenient. Spare a bit of supper for a hungry man?
Before the man could answer, a young boy left one of the circles carrying a
metal mug full of water.
You thirsty, too?
A woman came striding after the boy, fixing the end of her headcloth across
Page 56 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
When he straightened, he stood blinking at an utterly different landscape.
The road he d landed in curved sharply before and behind him; since it also
ran between tall hedges he couldn t see much, only the tops of some low twisty
trees whose foliage had thinned with the onrush of the year; withered remnants
of small fruits clung to the top-most branches. Real trees, like those in-his
homeplace, not the feathery blue analogs on the road he d been fol-lowing an
instant before. A raptor circled high over-head, songbirds twittered nearby,
distractingly familiar; he listened and thought he could put a name to most of
them. Insects hummed in the hedges and crawled through dusty gray-green grass.
A black leaper as long as his thumb sprang out of the dust, landed briefly on
his toe, sprang off again. He sucked on his teeth, kicked at the nearest rut,
sent pale alkali dust spraying before him. If the sun were a bit ruddier and
had a marble-sized blue companion, this could have been Rainbow s End. But it
was egg-yellow and solitary, and it was low in what he thought was the west
and its light had a weary feel, so he shouldn t waste what was left on the day
boggling at what had happened to him. He took one step backward, then another,
but the fold in spacetime that brought him here seemed a oneway gate. He
shrugged. Not much he could do about that. He knelt in the dust and inspected
the ruts. Inexpert as he was at this sort of tracking, it seemed to him that
the heav-iest traffic went the way he was facing. Which was vaguely northeast
(if he was right about the sun). He straightened, brushed himself off, and
started walking, accepting this jarring change in his circumstances as calmly
Page 55
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
as he accepted most events in his life.
Cradled in a warm noisy crowded line family, al-ways someone to pick him up
and cuddle him when he stubbed a toe or stumbled into more serious trou-ble,
he had acquired a sense of security that nothing since had more than dented
(though he d wandered in and out of danger a dozen times and come close to
dying more than once from an excess of optimism); he d learned to defend
himself, more because of his internal need to push any skill he learned to the
limits of his ability than because he felt any strong desire to stomp his
enemies. It was easier not to make enemies. If a situation got out of hand and
nothing he could do would defuse it, he generally slid away and left the
argument to those who enjoyed arguing.
One time a lover asked him, Don t you want to do something constructive with
your life? He thought about it for a while, then he said, No.
You ought to, she said, irritation sharpening her voice, there s more to
living than just being alive.
He gazed at her, sighed, shook his head and not long after that shipped out on
the Hairy Mule.
He swung along easily through a late afternoon where heat hung in a yellow
haze over the land and the road was the only sign of habitation; he wasn t in
a hurry though he was starting to get thirsty. He searched through the dozens
of pockets in his long leather overvest, found an ancient dusty peppermint,
popped it into his mouth. A road led somewhere and he d get there if he kept
walking. The sun continued to decline and eventually set; he checked his
pocket-chron, did some calculations of angular shift and decided that the
daylength was close to shipstandard, another way this world was like Rainbow s
End.
He kept on after night closed about him; no point in camping unless he found
water, besides the air was warm and a gibbous moon with a chunk bitten out of
the top rose shortly after sunset and spread a pearly light across the land.
Sounds drifted to him on a strengthening breeze. A mule s bray. Another. A
chorus of mules. Ring of metal on metal. Assorted anonymous tunks and thuds.
As he drew closer to the source, the sounds of laughter and voices, many of
them children s voices. He rounded a bend and found a large party camped
beside a canal. Ten carts backed up under the trees. A crowd of mules (bay,
roan and blue) wearing hobbles and herded inside rope corrals, chewing at hay
and grain and each other, threatening, kicking and biting with an energy that
made nothing of the day s labors. Two hundred children seated around half a
dozen fires. Fifteen adults visible. Eight women, dressed in voluminous
trousers, tunics reach-ing to midcalf with long sleeves and wide cuffs,
head-cloths that could double as veils. Seven men with shorter tunics and
trousers that fit closer to the body, made from the same cloth the women used
(a dark tan home-spun, heavy and hot), leather hats with floppy brims and
fancy bands, leather boots and gloves.
They also had three bobtail spears slanted across their backs and
what looked like cavalry sabers
swinging from broad leather belts; several carried quarterstaffs. The
last were prowl-ing about the circumference of the camp, keeping a
stern eye on the children while the women were finishing preparations
for supper.
One of the men walked over to him. Keep moving, friend. We don t want company
here.
Daniel Akamarino blinked. Whatever or whoever had brought him here had
operated on his head in the instant between worlds; he wasn t sure he liked
that though it was convenient. Spare a bit of supper for a hungry man?
Before the man could answer, a young boy left one of the circles carrying a
metal mug full of water.
You thirsty, too?
A woman came striding after the boy, fixing the end of her headcloth across
Page 56 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]