A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson. Part five

“Yes, but–but–” She raised her face. “Take me along,” she begged.

“Haadoch? No. Impossible. The Ruadrath would see you and–”

“And what?” She knelt before him and clutched at his

“I want to say goodbye. And … and give him … what I can of a

Christian burial. Don’t you understand, lord? He’ll lie here alone

forever.”

“Let me think.” Ydwyr sat motionless and expressionless while she tried

to control her sobbing. At last he smiled, stroked her hair again, and

told her, “You may.”

She forgot to gesture gratitude. “Thank you, thank you,” she said in

ragged Anglic.

“It would not be right to forbid your giving your dead their due.

Besides, frankly, I see where it can be of help, showing the Ruadrath a

live human. I must plan what we should tell them, and you must have your

part learned before morning. Can you do that?”

“Certainly.” She lifted her chin. “Afterward, yes, I will work for

Merseia.”

“Give no rash promises; yet I hope you will join our cause. That

fugitive talent you have for making others want what you want–did you

use it on me?’ Ydwyr blocked her denial with a lifted palm. “Hold. I

realize you’d attempt no mind-intrusion consciously. But

unconsciously–Khraich, I don’t suppose it makes any difference in this

case. Go to your quarters, Djana daughter. Get some rest. I will be

summoning you in a few hours.”

XVIII

—–

Where their ranges overlapped, Domrath and Ruadrath normally had no

particular relationship. The former tended to regard the latter as

supernatural; the latter, having had chances to examine hibemator dens,

looked more matter-of-factly on the former. Most Domrath left Ruadrath

things strictly undisturbed–after trespassing groups had been decimated

in their sleep–whereas the Ruadrath found no utility in the primitive

Domrath artifacts. The majority of their own societies were

chalcolithic.

But around Seething Springs–Ktha-g-thek, Wirrda’s–a pattern of

mutuality had developed. Its origins were lost in myth. Ydwyr had

speculated that once an unusual sequence of weather caused the pack to

arrive here while the tribe was still awake. The Ruadrath allowed

summertime use of their sturdy buildings, fine tools, and intricate

decorations, provided that the users were careful and left abundant

food, hides, fabrics, and similar payment. To the Domrath, this had

become the keystone of their religion. The Ruadrath had found ceremonial

objects and deduced as much. It made Wirrda’s a proud band.

Flandry discovered he could play on that as readily as on territorial

instinct. You may admit the skyswimmers can do tricks you can’t.

Nevertheless, when you are accustomed to being a god, you will resent

their not having told you about the real situation in heaven.

Rrinn and his councilors were soon persuaded to carry out the human’s

suggestion: Send an obscurely worded message, which Flandry helped

compose. Keep back the fact that he was alive. Have nearly everyone go

to the hinterland during the time the Merseians were expected; they

could do nothing against firearms, and a youngster might happen to give

the show away.

Thus the village lay silent when the airbus appeared.

Domed with the snow that paved the spiderweb passages between them,

buildings looked dwarfed. The winter sky was so huge and blue, the

treeless winter horizon so remote. Steam from the springs and geysers

dazzled Flandry when he glimpsed it, ungoggled; for a minute residual

light-spots hid the whitened mass of Mt. Thunderbelow and die glacier

gleam on the Hell-kettle peaks. Fast condensing out, vapors no longer

smoked above the Neverfreeze River. But its rushing rang loud in today’s

ice quiet.

A lookout yelled, “Trreeann!” Flandry had learned that call. He peered

upward and southward, located the glinting speck, and sprang into the

house where he was to hide.

Its door had been left open, the entrance covered by a leather

curtain–an ordinary practice which should not draw any Merseian heed.

Within, among the strewn furs and stacked utensils of a prosperous

owner, sunbeams straggled past cracks in the shutters to pick out of

dimness the arsenal Flandry had taken from the vehicle he stole. He

carried two handguns, blaster and stunner, plus a war knife, extra

ammunition, and energy charges. That was about the practical limit. The

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