Keepers of the Secrets by Farmer Philip José

Author:Farmer, Philip José [Farmer, Philip José]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Sci Fi & Fantasy
ISBN: 9780722134894
Amazon: 0722134894
Goodreads: 2412477
Publisher: Sphere
Published: 1983-12-16T08:00:00+00:00

Grandrith’s communications, as usual, were more than cut to the bone. They went all the way to the marrow. He had been met by a big party of men out to kill him, and he had eluded them so far. He would be going on, as planned, on foot. It was doubtful that Caliban would hear from him again for several months. Caliban wished that Grandrith had added more details. Then he smiled slightly. His half-brother was no more taciturn than he was. Both talked as little as possible. But his brother did so because he had been raised in the jungle with sentients who did not converse much after they became adults. And he had spent much time with himself during the formative years. Grandrith’s close- mouthedness was ‘natural.’ Caliban’s was the result of his father’s training and was ‘artificial.’ And also ‘neurotic.’ There were times when it was clearly to every- one’s benefit to talk much, and he found it difficult to do so then. He did, however, talk vicariously through the pseudo-hateful banter of Barney and Pauncho, as he had done with their fathers. Though their insults sometimes irritated him, he needed the two men.

Von Zarndirl, having received another injection, slept on Doc’s bed. Pauncho brought up more food from the kitchen after observing its preparation. He grinned as he told about the curious looks that the chefs gave him and how he had pacified a waiter with a huge tip.

‘They think we’re crazy, and of course they’re talking about us. Half the village must know we’re acting very peculiarly.’

‘We’ll move out at nine o’clock,’ Doc said. ‘According to Cobbs, the cave-in is only two miles from here, on the north side of the mountain and about 2,000 feet below the castle.’

At nine o’clock the storm had been dead for an hour. The wind was gentle but icy; the clouds were ragged, passing below the moon slowly as if they were battle-torn veterans on parade.

Von Zarndirl, taped and gagged, slept on the floor of the bathroom. The others, bundled up in climbing clothes, carrying alpenstocks and various boxes, went out a side door of the inn. They tromped through the slushy streets to where they had left the cars. After examining them for booby traps, they opened the doors and got out their rifles. They put on the caps with the blacklight projectors and their goggles and began tramping up the mountain, Cobbs leading. Water fell on them as they passed under the low branches of trees or by bushes. The earth was often slippery under them, but they dug in with their stocks and slogged on up.

Cobbs stopped for a moment and said, ‘It’s about a quarter mile ahead.’

‘We’ll go more cautiously now,’ Doc Caliban said. ‘Iwaldi is no dummy. He’ll have back-tracked after he caught you and either shut up the entrance or stationed a guard there.’

They started walking again. The moon came out. Doc, looking up, saw the first of the big winged shapes. The broad beam from the projector revealed lammergeiers, the eagles of the Alps.

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