The Best of Lester Del Rey by Lester Del Rey

Author:Lester Del Rey [Rey, Lester Del]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci-Fi Anthology
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 1978-09-14T23:00:00+00:00

3.

The house assigned to them had proved surprisingly comfortable after they learned to work the peat-burning fireplace. The food had been passable, if a man liked cereals and mutton. Derek had gone to sleep readily enough, to his surprise. But dawn had found him awake. No attempt was made to stop him as he walked out of the village, past the undisturbed Sepelora, and on to the low hills beyond the tilled land. Siryl was apparently right in assuming they were safe, once bread had been broken.

But his uncertainty returned as he studied the view from the top of the nearest hill. The solar explosion had hit hard at one time; the ground was ashy in places and actually melted to slag in others. A few plants grew here and there, but thinned out in the distance, indicating they had spread from the village. There were no trees anywhere. By all indications, rainfall must be infrequent and light. The village seemed like a bit of another world, transplanted into the wasteland.

From the top of another hill Derek spotted what must be a second village, perhaps four miles away, also green and thriving. He stared about for a road between the two towns. No path led out of either.

Men were already in the fields as he returned. Some stood quietly watching their sheep and goats; others were puttering about in ways he couldn't understand. There was none of the grimness he'd always associated with living off the ground on backward planets.

Beside the field where the Sepelora had landed, Derek saw a young man pushing a stick along the ground, leaving a furrow of turned earth behind. There was no sign of a plowshare, aside from a piece of bent wire, and the man was using only his own muscular power, but he was obviously plowing. From his effortless motion, he was either inhumanly strong or the ground was incredibly soft. Derek reached over for a handful of dirt, but it seemed normal enough.

"Good morning, Derek. I'm Michla." The plowman had stopped and walked over, leaving the stick standing. He took some of the dirt and rubbed it between his palms. "Too dry. I'll have to bring some rain tonight."

Derek shook his hand, finding it no stronger than that of any normal man. "Glad to know you, Michla. I've been wondering how your plow works."

"See for yourself." Michla led the way to it, pulling the implement up. It was only what Derek had seen—a stick with a bit of bent wire and a curiously shaped handle made of baked clay and covered with curlicues. "I hold the amulet and guide it. God turns over the dirt. It hasn't changed since god showed us how to farm."

Derek could see no sign of the burrowing machine that must be located below the ground, guided by a signal from the stick. He frowned, reluctantly deciding that it was safer to accept the explanation until he could learn more about their customs. "This god you worship seems like a highly helpful one," he commented.

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