Brother to Demons Brother to Gods by Jack Williamson

Author:Jack Williamson [Williamson, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Science Fiction, Science, Life Sciences
ISBN: 9781557851260
Publisher: Bart Books
Published: 1989-08-26T00:00:00+00:00

they would become.

But how could a frog learn to fly—

Something woke him.

In his vivid dream he and Buglet had been homeless waifs again, as they were before the goddess came to Redrock. Bug was sick and hungry, lying on a pallet of empty grain sacks in El Yaqui's cowshed. He had been slipping into the kitchen, trying to steal good food for her, when La China caught him. Screaming, she had been about to throw a bloody cleaver at him.

He sat up, blinking at the grime-clotted wall. It looked strange, until his first gasping breath brought memory back along with the reek of the jail. He slid off the bench and stopped to listen for what-ever had jarred him awake.

There was nothing he could hear. No movement from the muman guards. No stir from any other prisoner. The same dim blue light still burned in the corridor, but he knew that day had come.

The sun, in fact, had already risen, casting the long black shadow of Quelf's castle far across the steel-colored lake. The bright sky was cloudless, broken only by the dark blot of the Inquisition battle skimmer that hung above the islet. He could find no new menace.

Yet his vague alarm persisted, even though this clear perception seemed to show that his latent gifts were growing. He stretched him-self and roved about the cell. The ache and fog were gone from his head. He felt a hunger pang and a sharper stab of new concern for Buglet.

Was it some dim sense of fresh danger to her that had brought 'him awake? He lay back on the bench to prove again for her, reaching at random—or trying blindly to reach—for any hint, any hope, any friend.

San Seven? The truman youth had been their best friend. More than half in love with Buglet, he suspected. San had risked perhaps too much to aid their first flight from Redrock. Could he have found some way to help her again? Could she perhaps be safe at the agency now?

Trying not to try too hard, because he thought the very tension of effort might defeat him, he turned that faint hope to the mansion on the hill, their home for all the- years since the goddess sent them there. On high ground, it should still be above the rising lake.

The drowned trees on the slopes beneath it were yellow and dying, and the wide doors stood open now. The bright image dimmed to the surge of elation, but it came back again when he made himself relax.

The doors were tall wood panels, carved by forgotten preman arti-sans with symbols that meant nothing now: a cross, a crescent, a star with six points, another with five. One panel had been charred and shattered, as if struck by a muman warrior's lightning, and the patio inside was rank with weeds and littered with sodden junk that once had been the agent's precious preman antiques.

The office was a shocking ruin, a dusty clutter of torn paper and ripped-up books and dismembered chairs and desks and files.

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