tired of rest."
"Are you hungry? I have dry rations on my pack."
“I am hungry for something other than porridge.''
Glawen brought out a packet of hard sausage, biscuits and hard cheese and passed them over to Scharde. “Now then, this is what happened after Kirdy Wook and I left the Station.”
Glawen spoke for an hour, ending his narrative with a description of Floreste's letter. "I would not be surprised if the person who spoke to you were not Smonny herself."
“It might be so. The voice was odd."
Rain had started to fall, drumming down upon the roof in what seemed a solid sheet of water. Kathcar looked out the doorway. "This storm goes on and on, worse than usual.”
"Scharde gave a grim laugh. “I am happy to be out of the doghole. Sometimes it would fill up to my hips with water."
Glawen turned to Kathcar. “How many dogholes are there?"
“Three. Only one was occupied, by Scharde Clattuc until this afternoon, when they brought in another prisoner."
"You took food to him; who was he,“ asked Glawen?
Kathcar made a fluttering gesture of the hand. “I pay no attention to such thing. To save my own neck I obeyed orders, no more."
“Still, you must have taken note of the prisoner."
"Yes, I saw him." Kathcar hesitated.”
"Go on. Did you recognize him, or hear his name?"
Kathcar responded grudgingly: "As a matter of fact, they spoke his name in the cookhouse, and they were all laughing together, as if at some great joke.”
“Well then, what was the name?"
“Chilke."
“Chilke! In the doghole?”
"Yes. That is correct.”
Glawen went to look out the door. The rain obscured his vision; he could see nothing but the stockade lamps.” He thought of Bodwyn Wook and his cautious plans; his calculated risks and compared them to the impulses of his emotions, but the entire process required less than a minute. He gave one of his guns to Scharde. “The crawler is down the hill, across the first gully. There is a flame-thrower tree just beyond. Directly below, where the river bends you will find the flyer. This is case I do not come back.”
Scharde, without comment, took the gun. Glawen signaled to Kathcar. “Come.”
Kathcar held back. He cried out: "We should not presume upon our luck! Do you not agree? Our lives deserve to be cherished; let us not ponder lost opportunities from the dogholes!”
“Come." Glawen started down the ladder.
“Wait!" cried Kathcar. “Look first for beasts!"
"There is too much rain,” said Glawen. “I can't see them. Nor can they see me.”
Cursing under his breath, Kathcar followed down the ladder. “This is senseless and reckless!”
Glawen paid no heed. He ran through the rain to the stockade. Kathcar followed, still crying out complaints which went unheard in the storm. He opened the stockade gate; the two passed through.
Kathcar spoke into Glawen’s ear: “In the rain they might think to activate their motion sensor, so we had best go the same way as before. Are you ready? Come along then! To the rock!"
The two ran crouching beside the stockade, with the rain hissing around their ears. Under the rock they halted. “Down low!” Kathcar ordered. “As before follow close, or you will lose me.”
On hands and knees the two scuttled through the muck, past the first doghole, up and around a ledge, down into a rocky hollow. Kathcar halted. “We are here.”
Glawen felt for the bars. He called down into the blackness: “Chilke Are you there? Can you hear me? Chilke?”
A voice came from below. “Who's calling for Chilke? It’s a waste of time; I can't help you.”
“Chilke its Glawen! Stand up; I'll pull you out.”
“I'm already standing, so that I don’t drown.”
Glawen and Kathcar moved aside the bars and pulled Chilke to the surface. “This is a glad surprise, “said Chilke.
Glawen and Kathcar replaced the bars; the three crawled across the compound to the stockade, ran crouching to the gate, passed through. For a moment the rain seemed
"Are you hungry? I have dry rations on my pack."
“I am hungry for something other than porridge.''
Glawen brought out a packet of hard sausage, biscuits and hard cheese and passed them over to Scharde. “Now then, this is what happened after Kirdy Wook and I left the Station.”
Glawen spoke for an hour, ending his narrative with a description of Floreste's letter. "I would not be surprised if the person who spoke to you were not Smonny herself."
“It might be so. The voice was odd."
Rain had started to fall, drumming down upon the roof in what seemed a solid sheet of water. Kathcar looked out the doorway. "This storm goes on and on, worse than usual.”
"Scharde gave a grim laugh. “I am happy to be out of the doghole. Sometimes it would fill up to my hips with water."
Glawen turned to Kathcar. “How many dogholes are there?"
“Three. Only one was occupied, by Scharde Clattuc until this afternoon, when they brought in another prisoner."
"You took food to him; who was he,“ asked Glawen?
Kathcar made a fluttering gesture of the hand. “I pay no attention to such thing. To save my own neck I obeyed orders, no more."
“Still, you must have taken note of the prisoner."
"Yes, I saw him." Kathcar hesitated.”
"Go on. Did you recognize him, or hear his name?"
Kathcar responded grudgingly: "As a matter of fact, they spoke his name in the cookhouse, and they were all laughing together, as if at some great joke.”
“Well then, what was the name?"
“Chilke."
“Chilke! In the doghole?”
"Yes. That is correct.”
Glawen went to look out the door. The rain obscured his vision; he could see nothing but the stockade lamps.” He thought of Bodwyn Wook and his cautious plans; his calculated risks and compared them to the impulses of his emotions, but the entire process required less than a minute. He gave one of his guns to Scharde. “The crawler is down the hill, across the first gully. There is a flame-thrower tree just beyond. Directly below, where the river bends you will find the flyer. This is case I do not come back.”
Scharde, without comment, took the gun. Glawen signaled to Kathcar. “Come.”
Kathcar held back. He cried out: "We should not presume upon our luck! Do you not agree? Our lives deserve to be cherished; let us not ponder lost opportunities from the dogholes!”
“Come." Glawen started down the ladder.
“Wait!" cried Kathcar. “Look first for beasts!"
"There is too much rain,” said Glawen. “I can't see them. Nor can they see me.”
Cursing under his breath, Kathcar followed down the ladder. “This is senseless and reckless!”
Glawen paid no heed. He ran through the rain to the stockade. Kathcar followed, still crying out complaints which went unheard in the storm. He opened the stockade gate; the two passed through.
Kathcar spoke into Glawen’s ear: “In the rain they might think to activate their motion sensor, so we had best go the same way as before. Are you ready? Come along then! To the rock!"
The two ran crouching beside the stockade, with the rain hissing around their ears. Under the rock they halted. “Down low!” Kathcar ordered. “As before follow close, or you will lose me.”
On hands and knees the two scuttled through the muck, past the first doghole, up and around a ledge, down into a rocky hollow. Kathcar halted. “We are here.”
Glawen felt for the bars. He called down into the blackness: “Chilke Are you there? Can you hear me? Chilke?”
A voice came from below. “Who's calling for Chilke? It’s a waste of time; I can't help you.”
“Chilke its Glawen! Stand up; I'll pull you out.”
“I'm already standing, so that I don’t drown.”
Glawen and Kathcar moved aside the bars and pulled Chilke to the surface. “This is a glad surprise, “said Chilke.
Glawen and Kathcar replaced the bars; the three crawled across the compound to the stockade, ran crouching to the gate, passed through. For a moment the rain seemed
Similar Books
