Vance by A3-Wyst-Alastor 1716 (v0.9)

Author:A3-Wyst-Alastor 1716 (v0.9) [Ismeretlen]
Language: hun
Format: epub

Chapter 8

The bonterfesters returned to Uncibal in a mood greatly in contrast to that in which they had set out. Aside from one or two muttered conversations, the group rode in silence. Skorlet and Esteban sat grimly erect, looking neither right nor left;

Jantiff watched them in covert fascination, his skin crawling at the thought of their conversation. They had meant him to be taken and dragged away by the mournful-eyed gypsies. At the contractor’s depot Esteban went off with Booch to the dispatcher’s office. Jantiff took advantage of the occasion to slip quietly away from the group He jumped aboard the man-way and rode north, walking and trotting .to increase his speed. Every few moments he looked back even though no one could possibly be so close on his heels. He gave a nervous laugh: in truth he was frightened, and no denying the fact. By sheer chance he had stumbled upon something awful, and now his very existence was threatened: Esteban had left him in no doubt of this.

The Great Southern Adit intercepted Uncibal River; Jantiff diverted eastward, and as before traveled at the best speed possible: pushing through the crowds, sidling and side-stepping, trotting when space opened before him. He diverted from Uncibal River along Lateral 26, and presently arrived at Old Pink.

Jantiff loped into the block, across the foyer, into the ascensor. Its familiar musty reek already seemed alien, and no longer part of his life. He alighted at the nineteenth level, raced around the corridor to his apartment.

He entered, and stood stock-still an instant, to pant and organize his thoughts. He glanced around the room. Kedidah’s belongings already appeared to show a thin film of dust. How remote she seemed! A week from now she would be gone from memory; that was the way of Uncibal. Jantiff quietly closed the door and made sure of the lock; then he went to his strongbox in the bedroom and opened the door. Into his pouch he packed ozols, family amulet, pigments, applicators and a pad of paper. Into one pocket he tucked his passage-voucher, personal certificate and tokens; the matrix he hefted in his hand, glancing toward the door. Urgency struggled with curiosity. Surely he had a few moments; the boater—festers rode Uncibal River far to the west. Time for a quick look. He slid the new matrix from the camera, inserted the old, turned the switch to “Project” and pointed the camera at the wall.

Images: the blocks of Uncibal, dwindling in perspective; the crowds of Uncibal River; the mudflats and Disjerferact. Old Pink: the facade, the foyer, the roof garden. More faces: the Whispers addressing an audience; Skorlet with Tanzel, with Esteban, Skorlet alone. Kedidah with Sarp, Kedidah in the refectory, Kedidah laughing, Kedidah pensive.

Then Esteban’s photographs during his custody of the camera: persons known and unknown to Jantiff; copies of pictures from a red reference volume; a sequence of shots of a heavy-shouldered dark-haired man wearing a black blouse and breeches, ankle boots and short-billed cap. This was the man of the secret meeting.

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