There was a deep passion in her words, quick and sharp and strange on
her lips as they were, a passion of anger and hopeless effort that
somehow roused me into desire to help her and these strange people of
hers. Too, if what she said was true, these raiders who had despoiled
her people would in time engulf the world with a war of conquest, even
if they were less able to defeat us than she estimated. I resolved to
make the most of this opportunity to learn the worst of this hidden
threat to men everywhere. I felt a kinship with Nokomee and her friend,
silent and alert beside me, and I realized it could well be that I had
in my hands the future of mankind, and that it behooved me not to let it
fall through carelessness.
Lapsed now into silence, we reached the end of the trail along the
ledge. We came out upon a broad shelf, with several cave mouths opening
along its cliff-side. Gathered here in the twilight were some two-score
men and women, bearing weapons; some the short powerful bow I had seen
in Nokomee's hands; others weapons like Holaf's tapered tube; still
others bearing small, round metal shields embossed with weird designs
that meant nothing to me. Squatted here, without fire, they fell silent
at our approach, eyeing me with curiosity and the beginnings of anger at
my intrusion. Nokomee began to talk swiftly in that rattling,
high-pitched tongue of theirs. I squatted down on my heels, took out my
pipe, lit it. At the flare of my match Holaf struck it from my hand. I
realized it had been a blunder, even a spark might attract attention to
their presence on the hillside. Still, the incident told me Nokomee had
not been lying to me.
Holaf pointed at the city far below, now glowing here and there with
lights, and at the match on the ground. Then he motioned to a cave
mouth, and I followed him. Inside there was a fire burning, furs strewn
about the floor, metal urns and even mirrors hung on the rough stone
walls. I sat on a rude wooden bench of newly-hewed wood, lit my pipe
again without interference. But I was sorry to miss that conference
outside in the open air. I wanted to hear, even if I could not
understand. Holaf still remained by my side, and his hand did not leave
the oddly-carved butt of the tapered tube-gun.
I sat there, feeling very much alone, with Holaf watching me somberly,
the only light a flickering amber from the fire. I started to my feet as
a musically pitched, almost singing voice questioned Holaf in their
tongue. I looked about for the source, then saw her moving toward me in
the half-light, and I stepped back in a kind of awe and embarrassment,
for this was new.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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