uplift4.brightnessreef-第79部分

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ed　directly　to　the　Tabernacle　exodus…an　outrage　executed　with　single…minded　precision　and　utter　resoluteness。　Traits　not　often　observed　in　traeki　here　on　the　Slope。
　　It　is　also　said　that　hoon　were　at　Mudaun；　portrayed　in　the　accounts　as　dour；　officious；　unhappy　beings。　A　race　of　stern　accountants；　dedicated　to　population　control　and　tabulating　the　breeding　rates　of　other　races；　unswayed　by　appeals　to　mercy　or　forbearance。
　　Could　anyone　recognise；　in　these　descriptions；　the　two　most　easy…going　members　of　the　Six？
　　No　wonder　hoon　and　traeki　seem　the　least　prone　to　nostalgia　about　good　old　days；　back　when　they　new　about　as　gods　of　space。
　　Annals　of　the　Jijoan　mons
　　
　　Sara
　　WITH　DAWN　BLEACHING　THE　EASTERN　SKY；　weary　travelers　trudged　into　Uryutta's　Oasis　after　a　long　night　march　across　the　parched　Warril　Plain…a　teeming；　thirsty　crowd　of　donkeys　and　simlas；　humans　and　hoon。　Even　urrish　pilgrims　stepped　daintily　to　the　muddy　shore　and　dipped　their　narrow　heads；　wincing　at　the　bitter；　unmasked　taste　of　plain　water。
　　Full　summer　had　broken　over　the　high　steppe；　when　hot　winds　ignited　rings　of　circle　grass；　sending　herds　stampeding　amid　clouds　of　dust。　Even　before　the　present　crisis；　wayfarers　avoided　the　summer　sun；　preferring　the　cool　moonlight　for　travel。　Urrish　guides　bragged　they　would　know　the　plain　blindfolded。
　　That's　fine　for　them；　Sara　thought；　swishing　her　aching　feet　in　the　oasis　spring。　An　urs　doesn't　fall　on　her　face　when　a　chance　stone　turns　underfoot。　Me；　I　like　to　see　where　I'm　going。
　　Predawn　light　revealed　mighty　outlines　to　the　east。　The　Rimmers；　Sara　thought。　The　mixed…race　expedition　was　making　good　time；　hurrying　to　reach　the　Glade　before　events　there　reached　a　climax。　On　the　plus　side；　she　was　anxious　to　see　her　brothers；　and　to　learn　how　well　Bloor　was　implementing　her　idea。　There　might　also　be　medical　help　for　her　ward；　the　Stranger；　if　it　seemed　safe　to　reveal　him　to　the　aliens。　A　big　if。　Nor　had　she　quite　given　up　on　getting　to　see　one　of　the　fabled　library　consoles　of　the　Great　Galactics。
　　Yet　there　was　also　much　to　fear。　If　the　star…gods　did　plan　on　wiping　out　all　witnesses；　it　would　surely　start　at　the　Glade。　Above　all；　Sara　worried　that　she　might　be　taking　the　Stranger　into　the　hands　of　his　enemies。　The　dark；　ever…cheerful　man　seemed　eager　to　go；　but　did　he　really　understand　what　was　involved？
　　A　whistling　sigh　fluted　from　Pzora's　corrugated　cone；　as　the　traeki　siphoned　water　from　the　pond；　fatigued　despite　having　ridden　all　the　way　in　a　donkey…drawn　chariot。　A　new　rewq　draped　across　Pzora's　sensor　ring；　one　of　two　Sara　had　bought　from　the　fresh　supply　at　Kandu　Landing；　to　help　the　traeki　pharmacist　treat　the　wounded　alien；　even　though　she　wasn't　keen　on　the　symbionts　herself。
　　A　chain　of　bubbles　broke　the　surface　near　Sara's　foot。　By　Loocen's　silver　light；　she　made　out　Blade；　from　Dolo　Village；　resting　underwater。　The　hasty　trek　had　been　hard　on　red　qheuens；　and　blues　like　Blade；　as　well　as　those　humans　too　big　to　burden　a　donkey。　Sara　had　been　allowed　to　mount　every　even…numbered　midura。　Even　so；　her　body　ached。　Serves　me　right　for　leading　a　bookish；　cloistered　life；　she　thought。
　　A　raucous　cheer　rose　up　where　urrish　donkey…drivers　piled　grass　and　dung　to　make　a　campfire。　Simla　blood　was　drained　into　a　tureen；　followed　by　chopped　meat；　and　soon　they　were　slurping　tepid　sanguinary　stew；　lifting　their　long　necks　to　swallow；　then　bending　for　more…sinuous　silhouettes　whose　rise　and　fall　was　eerily　acpanied　by　the　Stranger's　plinking　dulcimer。　Meanwhile　a　hoon　cook；　proud　of　her　multirace　cuisine；　banged　pots　and　sprinkled　powders　until　spicy　aromas　finally　overcame　the　stench　of　roast　simla；　restoring　even　Sara's　queasy　appetite。
　　A　little　while　later；　full　dawn　revealed　stunning　tan…and…green　mountains　towering　across　the　eastern　horizon。　The　Stranger　laughed　as　he　worked　shirtless；　helping　Sara　and　the　other　humans　do　a　typical　camp…chore　assigned　to　Earthlings…erecting　shelters　of　g'Kek　blur　cloth；　to　shade　travelers　and　beasts　through　the　blazing　day。　The　star…man's　muteness　seemed　no　handicap　at　working　with　others。　His　pleasure　at　being　alive　affected　all　those　around　him；　as　he　taught　the　others　a　wordless　song　to　help　pass　the　time。
　　Two　more　days；　Sara　thought；　glancing　up　toward　the　pass。　We're　almost　there。
　　The　oasis　was　named　for　a　nomad　warrior　who　had　lived　soon　after　urrish　settlement　on　Jijo；　when　their　numbers　were　still　small；　and　their　planet…bound　crafts　pitifully　crude。　In　those　olden　times；　Uryutta　fled　east　from　the　rich　grazing　lands　of　Znunir；　where　her　tribal　chiefs　had　vowed　fealty　to　mighty　Gray　Queens。　Uryutta　led　her　fellow　rebels　to　this　wadi　in　the　vast　dry　plain；　to　nurse　their　wounds　and　plot　a　struggle　for　freedom　from　qheuen　dominance。
　　Or　so　went　the　legend　Sara　heard　that　afternoon；　after　sleeping　through　the　hottest　part　of　the　day…a　slumber　during　which　she　had　dreamed　vaguely　of　water；　cool　and　clear；　raising　a　terrible　thirst。　She　slaked　it　at　the　spring；　then　rejoined　the　other　travelers　under　the　big　tent　for　another　meal。
　　With　a　few　hours　still　to　go　before　dusk；　and　a　leaden　heat　still　pressing　outside；　tinkers　and　pack…handlers　gathered　around　a　storyteller；　acpanying　her　recital　with　foot…stamps　and　switched　braided　tails。　Even　after　gaining　books　and　printing；　urs　still　loved　the　oral　tradition；　its　extravagance　and　impromptu　variations。　When　the　bard's　chant　reached　the　Battle　of　Znunir　Trading　Post；　elongated　heads　swayed　together。　Triplet　eyes　stared　past　the　poet　toward　times　gone　by。
　　So　the　traitor　cavalry　scattered
　　Willing　slaves；　the　cowards　were　driven
　　Into　the　trap　Uryutta　had　fashioned
　　Tumbling　screaming　through　Deep　Stink　Crevasse
　　There　to　mix　sulfurous　death　smells
　　With　their　own　dry…pouch；　death…fearing　rankness。
　　Listeners　hissed　contempt　for　gutless　renegades。　Sara　pulled　out　her　notebook　and　took　notes　on　the　antiquated　storytelling　dialect；　already　devolved　from　GalTwo；　long　before　humans　came。
　　Then　wheeled　Uryutta；　ready　to　confront
　　The　dread　footmen　of　gray　qheuen　matrons
　　Males　in　armor；　males　with　weapons
　　Of　sharp…edged　hardwood；　flashing　so　brightly
　　And　clattering　claws；　keen　to　tear　hide；
　　Poised　now　to　flay　us　in　shreds　for　their　mothers。
　　This　time　the　urs　listeners　vented　repeated　low　grunts；　marking　respect　for　a　tough　foe；　a　sound　humans　first　heard　the　third　generation　after　arriving；　when　Earthlings　won　their　own　place　in　the　pre…mons　chaos。
　　Now　is　the　time！　Our　chief　gives　the　signal。
　　Bring　forth　the　weapons；　tools　newly　fashioned。
　　Bring　forth　the　longsticks；　e　forth　you　strongbacks。
　　Stab　now　to　miss；　but　stab　hard　below！
　　Bear　now　the　burden。　Bear　it；　you　strongbacks！
　　Heave！　Claws　a…flashing；　over　they　go！
　　At　first　Sara　had　trouble　following　the　action。　Then　she　understood　Uryutta's　bat　innovation…using　〃long…sticks；〃　or　rods　of　boo；　to　tip　over　the　invincible　qheuen　infantry。　Urrish　volunteers　served　as　living　fulcrums；　braving　snapping　claws　and　crushing　weight　while　their　fellows　heaved；　toppling　one　qheuen　after　another。
　　Despite　the　ecstatic　song　of　vengeful　slaughter；　Sara　knew　the　historical　Uryutta's　victories　had　been　shortlived；　as　qheuens　adjusted　their　tactics。　It　took　a　later　breed　of　heroes…the　warrior　smiths　of　Blaze　Mountain…to　finally　drive　gray　tyrants　off　the　high　plains。　And　still　the　queens　thwarted　the　rising　mons；　until　humans　brought　new…old　skills　to　the　art　of　war。
　　Not　all　the　urs　were　celebrating　past　glories。　The　caravan　chief　and　her　aides　knelt　on　a　peko…skin　rug；　planning　the　next　trek。　From　their　gestures　over　a　map；　they　clearly　meant　to　skip　the　next　oasis　and　make　a　hard　dash　for　the　foothills　by　sunrise。
　　Oh；　my　aching　feet；　Sara　thought。
　　The　chief　raised　her　conical　head；　hissing　as　one　human　pilgrim　neared　a　tent　flap。
　　〃Got　to　go；〃　explained　Jop；　the　Dolo　tree　farmer。
　　〃What；　leaking　again？　Are　you　ill？〃
　　Jop　had　spent　most　of　the　journey　immersed　in　a　copy　of　the　Scroll　of　Exile；　but　now　he　seemed　affable。　He　laughed。　〃Oh；　no。　I　jest　drank　too　much　lovely　spring　water。　Time　to　give　it　back　to　Jijo。　That's　all。〃
　　While　the　flap　was　briefly　up；　Sara　glimpsed　bubbles　in　the　pond　again。　Blade　was　back　under；　soaking　for　the　next　hard　march。　Was　he　also　blocking　out　the　storyteller's　victory　paean　over　defeated　qheuens？
　　The　flap　fell；　and　Sara　looked　around　the　pavilion…shelter。
　　Kurt　the　Exploser　used　a　pass　to　draw　loopy　arcs　on　sheets　of　graph　paper；　growling　over　his　labors；　making　a　papermaker's　daughter　wince　as　he　crumpled　one　sheet　after　another　in　frustration。　Nearer　to　Sara；　Prity　also　drew　abstract　figures；　more　economically；　in　a　patch　of　sand。　Pulling　at　her　furry　chin；　she　consulted　a　topology　text　Sara　had　brought　from　Biblos。
　　My；　what　an　intellectual　caravan；　Sara　observed　sardonically。　A　would…be　priest；　a　designer　of　things　that　go　bang；　a　geometrical　chimpanzee；　and　a　fallen　mathematician；　all　hurrying　toward　possible　destruction。　And　that　just　begins　our　list　of　oddities。
　　Over　to　the　left；　the　Stranger　had　set　aside　his　dulcimer　to　watch　Kurt's　nephew；　young　Jomah；　play　a　game　of　Tower　of　Haiphong　with　a　red…qheuen　salt　peddler；　a　pair　of　Biblos　librarians；　and　three　hoonish　pilgrims。　The　contest　involved　moving　colored　rings　over　a　hexagonal　array　of　posts；　stuck　in　the　sand。　The　goal　was　to　pile　a　stack　of　rings　on　your　Home　Post　in　the　right　order；　largest　at　the　bottom；　smallest　on　top。　In　the　advanced　game；　where　ring　colors　and　patterns　signified　traeki　attributes；　one　must　wed　various　traits　to　form　an　ideal　traeki。
　　Pzora　seemed　more　entranced　by　the　storyteller　than　the　game。　Sara　had　never　heard　of　a　traeki　taking　offense　at　Tower　of　Haiphong；　even　though　it　mimicked　their　unique　mode　of　reproduction。
　　〃See　here？〃　the　boy　explained　the　game　to　the　Stranger。　〃So　far　I　got　swamp　flippers；　a　mulching　core；　two　memory　rings；　a　Sniffer；　a　Thinker；　and　a　Looker。〃
　　The　star…human　showed　no　sign　of　frustration　by　Jomah's　rapid　speech。　He　watched　the　apprentice　exploser　with　an　expression　of　intelligent　interest…perhaps　he　heard　Jomah's　warbling　vo