(eng) Paul O. Williams - Pelbar 04 by Fall of the Shell

Author:Fall of the Shell [Shell, Fall of the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

10

After finishing his third day of cutting wood, Gamwyn, fagged out, sought the far comer of the smokehouse. He found that the drugged smoke lay thinnest there. By digging his face down into the malodorous straw, he could avoid most of its effect.

Another man was in Gamwyn’s usual place, so he lay nearby, bone tired, only to have the man slide over to him and catch his arm in a tight grip.

“You. You’re the one they call Peshtak. What is this? You’re no more Peshtak than a squirrel.”

“Who are you?”

“You answer quick.” The man shook Gamwyn, who deftly caught his fingers and twisted them back in an excruciating hold. The man swung close and clamped the boy’s neck, but Gamwyn tightened and bent, and with a low moan the man let go and writhed back.

Gamwyn eased his grip. “Who are you?”

The man spat at him. Gamwyn wrenched his hand again and the man screamed. Several of the others sat up and gazed at them. Gamwyn and the man lay quiet.

“Who are you?” Gamwyn repeated. “You must be the Peshtak that Nicfad ranted on about. What’s your name?” “I will say when you identify yourself.”

Gamwyn sighed. “I’m Gamwyn, a Pelbar from Threerivers. But to them I’m a Peshtak. That’s what they assumed. They said they’d cut off my foot unless I admitted it. Naturally I did.”

The man chuckled. “A Pelbar. Who would have thought to meet a hog-sucking Pelbar here?”

“Your name?”

“My name?”

“Even Peshtak have names. This time I’ll break your hand. You’ll have great fun working with a broken hand.” “Syle. I am Syle. Now. Let go.” Gamwyn did. “Now I can tell the fish-gut Tusco you lied. You owe me. See? You won’t get any sucker grips on me anymore.”

“You’ll tell the Tusco? I’ll just say you want to deceive them. They absolutely know I’m a Peshtak. Look, why be enemies? We both need to get out. Right? Why not join together?”

“Join? With a Pelbar woman-slave?”

“Do you know Misque?”

“Misque? Where did you meet her?”

“Jaiyan’s Station. I figured out she was Peshtak.”

“And you told.”

“No. She saved my life. We hugged good-bye.” “Faaaugh.”

“I know I can’t trust you. Too far, anyhow. But I’ll swear to you by Aven now that I won’t betray you—and if I find a way out, you’ll be the first to hear of it.”

“There is no way. No way at all. It’s the dogs and the patrols. You could get out, but you wouldn’t get away. The Nicfad are too good. Swill faccs. They’d even find Peshtak. I’d like to see them, though, run across a good force of us. We’d skewer them all.”

“There must be a way. Craydor would say it’s a matter of design. Their whole society is a design—a very bad one. It’s effective enough for the managers. But it has its flaws. It’s got to. We only need to find them.”

The two talked the whole time they lay under the smoke. Gamwyn learned that Syle was only eighteen. He had come from the mountains. He was also in despair.

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