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had not taken one of the branch-mounds in the dormitory; so either he had
separate quarters elsewhere, or perhaps he did not sleep here at the inn. John
stood a moment, irresolutely. The few Dilbians in the room were ignoring him,
by reason of that particular blindness to someone his size that he had
encountered before. They simply were not expecting to see anyone built that
close to the ground. In a literal sense, they were all looking over his head.
It occurred to John that One Man might still be around, but have stepped
outside, or retired to one of the smaller houses or whatever they were behind
the inn. Quietly after his experience at Brittle Rock Inn he had no wish to
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call attention to himself he crossed the room, pushed the heavy hide curtain
aside and slipped out.
Outside, he paused to accustom his eyes to the night, moving a little way off
from the inn to get away from the door and window light. Slowly, the starlit
scene took shape around him, solidifying out of obscurity. The wide face of
the river ran silver-dark in the faint light, and the distant woods loomed
like the tidal wave of some black sea. The clearing where the Inn and the
outbuildings behind it stood, lay pooled in silence.
He turned and found his way cautiously around the main building to its back.
Unlike the Brittle Rock establishment, the backyard area here, sloping
gradually to the river, was clear of rubbish; and the outbuildings themselves
were neatly in good repair. Between them, when the way was close, the shadows
were deeper and John had almost to feel his way.
It occurred to him then and he wondered why he had not thought of it
before that a good share of these were probably private living quarters, not
only for One Man, but for the rest of his staff, as well as any female
visitors. Females seemed to have little to do with Dilbian inns, except in a
service capacity. Now, as he groped among the close dark shapes of these
buildings he found himself wondering how he could check on whoever might be in
them, without raising some kind of alarm.
Just then he caught sight of a thin blade of yellow light between two hide
curtains of a building around the corner from one he had just passed. He
turned and went toward the light; but as he passed by a little patch of deeper
shadow a hand reached out and took him by the arms.
"Do youwant to get killed?" hissed a voice.
And of course, it spoke Basic. For both the hand and voice were human.
CHAPTER 11
The grip on John's arm drew him away, deeper into the shadow and around
behind a building that blocked him off from the window light. They came on a
door of this building and John felt himself led through its hide curtain. In
the utter blackness of the interior, the hand left his arm. John stopped,
instinctively; completely lost in the leather-smelling obscurity. Then there
was a scratch, a sputter, and a candle burst into light only a few feet from
him, blinding him.
John blinked helplessly for several seconds against the sudden illumination.
Gradually he became able to see again, and when he did, he found himself
looking down for the first time in two days into the face of one of the
prettiest young women he had seen in a long time.
She was perhaps a foot shorter than he was, but at first glance looked taller
by reason of her slimness and the tailored coveralls she wore. To John's
Dilbian-accustomed eyes, she looked tiny, not to say fragile. Her chestnut
hair swept in two wide wings back on each side of her head. Her eyes were
green-blue above marked cheekbones that gave her a sculptured look. Her nose
was thin, her lips firm rather than full, and her small chin had a determined
shape.
John blinked again.
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"Who ?" he managed, after a minute.
"I'm Ty Lamorc," she said. "Keep your voice down!"
"Ty Lamorc?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?" stammered John. "I mean, you "
"Who were you expecting to run into away out here in the center of oh, I
know!" she glared at him. "It's that Greasy Face name the Dilbians gave me.
You were expecting some sort of witch."
"Certainly not," said John.
"Well, for your information, they just happened to see me putting on makeup
one day."
"Oh."
"That's where the name came from."
"Oh, of course. I never thought "
"I'll bet you didn't."
"Really," said John.
"Anyway, never mind that now. The point is, what on Earth are you doing out
here? Do you want to get knocked on the head?"
"I was trying to find One Man " John suddenly stiffened and lowered his
voice. "Is the Terror back here?"
"No, but Boy Is She Built is. She's been guarding me. And she'll kill you if
she gets her hands on you. She hasn't even told the Terror you're after him."
John stared.
"I don't understand," he said.
"The Terror wouldn't run from a fight. He'd run toward it. He thinks it's
just the Hill Bluffer after him with a demand from the Humrog mayor that he
bring me back. Boy Is She Built doesn't want the Terror to get into trouble by
killing you."
"But she's willing to do it, herself."
"She's in love with the Terror. That's the way she thinks. And she doesn't
know well, how essentially harmless your mission is. Now, what we've got to do
is smuggle you back into the dormitory before she catches you. She won't go in
there after you. It's treaty ground inside, anyway."
"Hold on a minute," said John, as Ty took hold of his arm again. He did not
move. "Aren't we getting this a little mixed up? I mean who's rescuing who? I
came along here to find you and bring you back to Humrog. Well, I've found
you. Come along back to the main inn building with me and I'll wake up the
Hill Bluffer and explain things "
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"You don't," interrupted Ty with feeling, "understand a blasted thing about [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]