The great light-eater, the Bodikiddartha, rose many thousands of body-lengths above T’ang’s present platform. Soaring toward the sun, it stood quietly on the other side of the Green Plain, breathing. Someday T’ang would cross that plain and climb the great bulk. If only to see the world on the other side.
Perhaps—a slip of motion caught his eyes. So intent had he been on the panorama in front of him, he had failed to notice the approach of a cyuma, a castle-man, to the cluster of foodstuffs.
It hadn’t spotted T’ang.
With infinite slowness, slower than the planet aged, he shifted his head to gain a better view. The torpid creature seemed concerned only with the foodstuffs.
89
WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . ..
The castle-men were glamorous and daring, skilled weaponeers with their deadly rapiers. They had speed and agility to support their arrogance. Some believed themselves kings of the world.
And Tang Lang? They found it convenient to avoid him.
It was an adolescent castle-man. He was edging uncaringly about the foodstuffs. Preparing to gorge himself, no doubt. Who would dare attack one of the castle-folk?
Pang leaned gently forward. He had gone into killing mode. Now nothing in the universe could distract him until he struck. The castle-man grew until it swallowed the world, became the world. And it was going to die.
Knives at the ready, always ready. Superbly crafted and designed, they could penetrate with such speed and force that sometimes a victim would expire of shock.
The castle-man was stupid. His inferior genes would not be saved for transfer to others of his kind. No one would grieve for him.