Throy by Vance Jack

Author:Vance, Jack [Vance, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780812511406
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 1992-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 5, Part III

Glawen and Chilke rented a flitter at the spaceport, on the theory that they would be less conspicuous than if they proceeded about their investigations in the Fortunatus. Upon leaving Port Mona, they flew west by north – above marshes tufted with red and black reeds, small ponds and water-meadows; over a line of rolling hills, then a long lake glittering and winking in the amber sunlight. Trees began to appear: Smoke-trees of amazing stature, standing alone or in disciplined groups; then dense forests of featherwoods, bilbobs, chulastics and thrums which covered the landscape with an intricately detailed carpet of black, brown and tan foliage.

Chilke called attention to a towering tree with masses of small rectangular leaves shimmering in waves of dark red, pale red and vermilion. “That is a pilkardia, but it is usually called an ‘oh-my-god tree.’”

“What an odd name!”

Chilke nodded. “You can’t see them from here, but the tree is thick with tree-waifs. They mix fiber and gum and some other ingredients to make their famous stink-balls. Sometimes guests at the ranches go wandering through the forests, admiring the stately beauty of the trees. They are warned not to loiter under the pilkardias.”

The flitter left Eclin behind and flew out over the Corybantic Ocean, with the sun gaining upon them very slowly. At local noon the coast of La Mar smudged the horizon. A few moments later the flitter crossed a long wavering white line, where surf foamed over an outlying reef. A strip of teal-blue lagoon passed below, then a white beach, then an expanse of jungle, which after a hundred miles broke against a tectonic thrust which pushed high an arid plateau.

Over red gulches and yellow gullies, bluffs banded tan, yellow and rust, flats of bare stone and drifts of mustard-ocher sand slid the flitter. Glawen found the landscape bleak yet disturbingly beautiful. He asked: “Is all this part of somebody’s ranch?”

“Probably not,” said Chilke. “There is still wilderness for sale, if the Factors find you reliable and suitably sensitive to caste distinctions. You, as a Clattuc, would have no problem on this score. Ten thousand sols would buy you this entire plateau.”

“And then: what would I do with it?”

“You could enjoy the solitude, or you might wish to study the wind-waifs.”

Glawen looked across the arid expanse. “I don’t see any wind-waifs at the moment.”

“If you were down there after dark, sitting at a campfire, they would come to toss pebbles and make strange sounds. If a tourist is lost they play tricks. I’ve heard all manner of tales.”

“What do they look like?”

“Nobody agrees on this, and cameras won’t focus on their images.”

“Very odd,” said Glawen.

The plateau came to an abrupt end at the brink of a great scarp half a mile high, with rolling plains beyond. Chilke indicated a river meandering lazily westward. “That’s the Big Muddy. It’s almost like coming home.”

The flitter slid across the sky. An hour passed and the town Lipwillow appeared below: a straggle of

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