Jondelle by E. C. Tubb

Author:E. C. Tubb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 1973-05-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

They spent the night on a windswept plateau, the men nervous, staying awake and ready to shout the alarm at every sound. The bales and raft made a protective ring over which they stared into the star-shot night, seeing a danger in every shadow. At dawn they dropped into the valley, half the men at the first load, the goods, Dumarest staying until the last. The sun was bright as they left the foothills and began to cross cultivated ground. Fields of crops, orchards, bushes bearing a variety of fruit. Men and women worked the fields, small and dark, looking up as they passed, then returning to their duties.

"The Hegelt," said Tambolt. "Some of them must have been here when the Melevganians came and others have probably been brought in. They breed fast and make docile workers."

Dumarest looked ahead. They were pulling the raft now, the engine providing barely enough energy to lift the vehicle a few feet above the ground. It was slow progress, but safe and he wanted to give the impression that the craft was damaged. A precaution against theft or confiscation. A workable raft to the Melevganians would be a temptation they might choose not to ignore. A damaged one would be of little value.

"There!" Tambolt, at his side, lifted an arm, pointing. "You can see the city."

It was low, long, a rambling collection of buildings constructed in a dozen varieties of style. Grim blocks shouldered fabrications of sweeping curves and fluted roofs, tiered pagodas and convoluted spirals of no apparent purpose. Most had broad, external stairs, wide balconies and walks supported by stalked columns. The windows were paneled in fretted iron-work, panes of many shapes and colors, wide sheets of reflecting crystal, rounded bull's-eyes, curves and abstract shapes which followed no apparent symmetry. From peaked, flat, and rounded roofs fluttered pennons and gaudy ribbons, figures of weird beasts and inflated constructions striped and mottled in a variety of hues.

An amusement park, thought Dumarest. A collection of individual designs interspersed with fountains which threw a rain of sparkling water into the air, of flower beds and patches of sward and mobiles which turned and chimed with soft tintinnabulations. A child's playground—or a city built by those with childlike whims.

A raft rose as they approached and swept toward them, settling a few yards ahead. It held men dressed in hatefully familiar armor, armed with lances which they kept leveled as the little party came to a halt. Another man, not armored, stepped from the raft and waited.

The reception committee. Tambolt dropped his rope and caught Dumarest by the arm as he stepped forward to where the man stood.

"Let me handle this, Earl. Don't forget they're crazy. A word and they'll be at your throat. The same word, spoken in a different tone at a different time, and they will give you everything they own. Logic doesn't work here. Not your sort of logic, at any rate."

Dumarest made no answer, looking instead at the unarmored Melevganian. He was tall, thin, his face painted in tiny flecks of color.

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