pilot’s seat, studied the panel, flipped a switch, then sighed. “Your miracle is perfect, Trader’s daughter. The power is all but full.”
“So it worked as we planned. They had just started and planned to go far afield. I think”—her lips quirked—“that since they have been so cooperative, we should save them a long walk. Let us drop them near the cup.”
“No.” Stoat’s voice was positive. “A little nearer if you like, but neither will sleep long. We wish to be well away before they return to the Landlord and tell their tale. Besides, this flyer was not meant for the load we must carry. They have their weapons, and they were born on this planet. They can ride the droms home.”
Lahks did not argue. She had sufficient confidence in Stoat’s consideration for his fellow man and knowledge of the situation to rely upon his judgment. They deposited the original pilot and his companion in the small cave they had used as a campsite. Lahks left a note saying the flyer would be returned or its worth repaid. The men could use it if they thought it would mitigate the Landlord’s wrath. Then they were free. Shom squatted with their packs in the carrying compartment. Lahks turned bright eyes on her pilot, who, after initial caution, was handling his craft with surprising dexterity.
“Where to?” she asked.
“Men have been on this planet a long time, long enough that some history has turned to legend and some legend to history. In the histories it says that when men first came there were ruins. They were very old, however, and so much decayed that nothing of the civilization that built them could be disclosed.”
Lahks nodded. It never occurred to her that Stoat had introduced an irrelevant topic. In fact, she could almost guess what the introduction would lead to. However, since she was interested and there was no hurry, she did not intrude her guess.
“More likely the settlers had neither time, skill, nor energy for archaeological studies. This was an incredibly harsh planet. They used anything they could, dressed stone and such, from the ruins and ignored or flattened the rest. I have spent considerable time trying to pinpoint any place ruins were said to exist, however.”
The sly-hot eyes flicked at her, and Lahks nodded again. “Because where the ruins were, the heartstones are found.”
“So it seems to me, although I have nothing that could be called proof. Correlating a vague legend that there once was a ruin in such-and-such a place with an equally vague rumor that such-and-such a hunter found a stone near there is scarcely proof.”
“A candle is better than no light at all on a dark night.”
“There is a legend that in the heart of the southern desert there are great ruins.”
His voice was soft, with a hint of longing, and Lahks did not break the silence that fell after he spoke. The ship hissed through the furious air, the low whine of its engine drowned in the total sound. Lahks, protected by her windsuit, had become so accustomed to the howling gale that was considered a quiet day in all flat areas that she was at first surprised at the noise. Stoat’s eyes flicked continuously from fuel gauge to altimeter to distance gauge. Then he took the flyer up very nearly to its limit in altitude and repeated the testing process.
When he turned to Lahks, Stoat’s face was devoid of expression, but Shom moved restlessly among the packs. Lahks would have liked to look at the idiot to determine the emotion Stoat was concealing, but it would have been too obvious.
“No one knows the extent of the southern desert, nor have I any certain idea of the place of the ruins—if there are ruins. If we could find them, there might not be fuel enough to return. There may not even be droms so far into the desert. Beyond that is the question of wind. If a windstorm catches the flyer in the air, we are dead. On the ground we might survive, but the flyer would be destroyed—and that might finish us,
“So it worked as we planned. They had just started and planned to go far afield. I think”—her lips quirked—“that since they have been so cooperative, we should save them a long walk. Let us drop them near the cup.”
“No.” Stoat’s voice was positive. “A little nearer if you like, but neither will sleep long. We wish to be well away before they return to the Landlord and tell their tale. Besides, this flyer was not meant for the load we must carry. They have their weapons, and they were born on this planet. They can ride the droms home.”
Lahks did not argue. She had sufficient confidence in Stoat’s consideration for his fellow man and knowledge of the situation to rely upon his judgment. They deposited the original pilot and his companion in the small cave they had used as a campsite. Lahks left a note saying the flyer would be returned or its worth repaid. The men could use it if they thought it would mitigate the Landlord’s wrath. Then they were free. Shom squatted with their packs in the carrying compartment. Lahks turned bright eyes on her pilot, who, after initial caution, was handling his craft with surprising dexterity.
“Where to?” she asked.
“Men have been on this planet a long time, long enough that some history has turned to legend and some legend to history. In the histories it says that when men first came there were ruins. They were very old, however, and so much decayed that nothing of the civilization that built them could be disclosed.”
Lahks nodded. It never occurred to her that Stoat had introduced an irrelevant topic. In fact, she could almost guess what the introduction would lead to. However, since she was interested and there was no hurry, she did not intrude her guess.
“More likely the settlers had neither time, skill, nor energy for archaeological studies. This was an incredibly harsh planet. They used anything they could, dressed stone and such, from the ruins and ignored or flattened the rest. I have spent considerable time trying to pinpoint any place ruins were said to exist, however.”
The sly-hot eyes flicked at her, and Lahks nodded again. “Because where the ruins were, the heartstones are found.”
“So it seems to me, although I have nothing that could be called proof. Correlating a vague legend that there once was a ruin in such-and-such a place with an equally vague rumor that such-and-such a hunter found a stone near there is scarcely proof.”
“A candle is better than no light at all on a dark night.”
“There is a legend that in the heart of the southern desert there are great ruins.”
His voice was soft, with a hint of longing, and Lahks did not break the silence that fell after he spoke. The ship hissed through the furious air, the low whine of its engine drowned in the total sound. Lahks, protected by her windsuit, had become so accustomed to the howling gale that was considered a quiet day in all flat areas that she was at first surprised at the noise. Stoat’s eyes flicked continuously from fuel gauge to altimeter to distance gauge. Then he took the flyer up very nearly to its limit in altitude and repeated the testing process.
When he turned to Lahks, Stoat’s face was devoid of expression, but Shom moved restlessly among the packs. Lahks would have liked to look at the idiot to determine the emotion Stoat was concealing, but it would have been too obvious.
“No one knows the extent of the southern desert, nor have I any certain idea of the place of the ruins—if there are ruins. If we could find them, there might not be fuel enough to return. There may not even be droms so far into the desert. Beyond that is the question of wind. If a windstorm catches the flyer in the air, we are dead. On the ground we might survive, but the flyer would be destroyed—and that might finish us,
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