A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson. Part three

nutrition. Flandry spent the bulk of his time getting back into physical

shape and oriented about this planet. Reasonably reconciled with

Djana–who’d been caught in the fortunes of war, he thought, and who now

did everything she could to mollify her solitary fellow human–she made

his nights remarkably pleasant. In general, aside from being a captive

whose fate was uncertain and from having run out of tobacco, he found

his stay diverting.

Nor was she badly off. She had little to fear, perhaps much to gain. If

she never returned to the Empire, well, that was no particular loss when

other humans lived under the Roidhunate. Like a cat that has landed on

its feet, she set about studying her new environment. This involved long

conversations with the thirty-plus members of Ydwyr’s group. She had no

Merseian language except for the standard loan words, and none of her

hosts had more than the sketchiest Anglic. But they kept a translating

computer for use with the natives. The memory bank of such a device

regularly included the major tongues of known space.

She’ll make out, Flandry decided. Her kind always does, right up to the

hour of the asp.

Then Ydwyr offered him a chance to accompany a party bound for Seething

Springs. He jumped at it, both from curiosity and from pragmatism. If he

was to be a quasi-slave, he might have a worse master; he must therefore

see about pleasing the better one. Moreover, he had not inwardly

surrendered hope of gaining his freedom, to which end anything he

learned might prove useful.

Half a dozen Merseians were in the expedition. “It’s fairly ordinary

procedure, but should be stimulating,” said Cnif hu Vanden,

xenophysiologist, who had gotten friendliest with him. “The Domrath are

staging their fall move to hibernating grounds–in the case of this

particular group, from Seething Springs to Mt. Thunderbelow. We’ve never

observed it among them, and they do have summertime customs that don’t

occur elsewhere, so maybe their migration has special features too.” He

gusted a sigh. “This pouchful of us … to fathom an entire world!”

“I know,” Flandry answered. “I’ve heard my own scholarly acquaintances

groan about getting funds.” He spread his hands. “Well, what do you

expect? As you say: an entire world. It took our races till practically

yesterday to begin to understand their home planets. And now, when we

have I don’t know how many to walk on if we know the way–”

Cnif was typical of the problem, crossed his mind. The stout, yellowish,

slightly flat-faced male belonged to no Vach; his ancestors before

unification had lived in the southern hemisphere of Merseia, in the

Republic of Lafdigu, and to this day their descendants maintained

peculiarities of dress and custom, their old language and many of their

old laws. But Cnif was born in a colony; he had not seen the mother

world until he came there for advanced education, and many of its ways

were strange to him.

The bus glided forward. The first valve of the hangar heatlock closed

behind it, the second opened, and it climbed with a purr of motor and

whistle of wind. At 5000 meters it leveled off and bore north-northeast.

That course by and large followed the river. Mainly the passengers sat

mute, preparing their kits or thinking their thoughts. Merseians never

chattered like humans. But Cnif pointed out landmarks through the

windows.

“See, behind us, at the estuary, what we call Barrier Bay. In early

winter it becomes choked with icebergs and floes, left by the receding

waters. When they melt in spring, the turbulance and flooding is

unbelievable.”

The steam wound like a somnolent snake through the myriad blues of

jungle. “We call it the Golden River in spite of its being silt-brown.

Auriferous sands, you see, washed down from the mountains. Most of the

place names are unavoidably ours. Some are crude translations from

Domrath terms. The Ruadrath don’t have place names in our sense, which

is why we seldom borrow from them.”

Cnif’s words for the aborigine& were artificial. They had to be. “Dom”

did represent an attempt at pronouncing what one of the first

communities encountered called themselves; but “-rath” was an Eriau root

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