[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
inland, though they abhor it more than we do."
It was night as Mirmib addressed them. They were standing on the long dock paralleling the almost-
finished, almost converted icerigger. Ethan and Hunnar were alone among a rushing current of
preoc-cupied craftsmen.
Winches were carefully loading the last of the five removed duralloy runners aboard the ship. Hopefully,
they would find another sloping canyon far away. Ethan found himself shivering as the minus sixty
tem-perature pressed at his survival suit's adjustive poten-tials. On locating another such canyon they
would once more replace the duralloy runners, remove the wheels, and set off for a new location, perhaps
distant Yealleat. As Ta-hoding had pointed out, the stars were a Tran icemaster's principal guide to
navigation, and the stars remained constant over land as well as ice.
They were loading final stores the next morning when a small raft came racing into the harbor, heeling
dangerously to port as its crew hiked to maximum for top speed. She disgorged a single officer, who
hauled himself up a boarding ladder with impressive speed despite the blood filtering through the fur over
his left eye. The four sailors sprawled exhaustedly on the deck of the little raft looked equally battered.
"The Poyos have not waited," the officer explained to the rapidly growing group of listeners clustering
around him. "This is the fourth day and they attacked two hold ago, no doubt hoping to catch us offguard
and by surprise." The bleeding soldier permitted him-self a vicious smile. "They did not, though they are
stronger than we thought." He recognized Hunnar among the assembled Tran.
"It would be well for all if you were on your way as soon as possible." He took in the seven jostling tow-
rafts, the cables stretching taut between them and the icerigger. "I must return to my post. Our warmth is
with our new brothers. Go with the wind." He was over the side before anyone had a chance to ask
ques-tions.
Ta-hoding was already heading for the helmdeck. Cranes and lift cables were disengaged in a flurry of
commands. Slanderscree mates and harbor pilots of Moulokin took up positions in the bow. Sails began
to billow, a blossoming of blue-green and gray, flow-ers of speed.
Word of the Poyolavomaar attack spread rapidly among the icerigger's crew and those of the towing
vessels. The Moulokinese hurried their last-minute preparations. They wanted to return as quickly as
pos-sible, to help defend their city.
Settled in arrowhead formation around the Slander-scree's bow, the seven tow rafts exchanged signals
and orders. Sailors stationed astern of each turned single-minded attention to the braces where the thick
cables ran out to the icerigger. Pika-pina cables had never been known to snap, but they'd never been
employed to pull so massive an object as the Slanderscree. If one did break, given the tension that would
exist be-tween dead weight and tug, the flying cable could decapitate an unwary sailor. Those stationed to
watch the cable braces were all volunteers.
Ethan worried more about the effect of the plateau winds on the huge icerigger. Even with her sails furled,
if the winds obtained a grip on her, she could be smashed against a down canyon wall.
Raft by raft, each of the towing craft let out its own sails, adjusting position to catch the gentle breezes
sweeping down Moulokin's protected canyon. The ca-bles grew taut, hummed. There was the sound of
pot-tery breaking beneath a heavy weight which muffled even as it broke. The icerigger ponderously
started forward, sliding out of drydock as neatly as any clean birth.
Ta-hoding was in constant verbal communication with relay mates stationed along the length of the ship.
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Fo...20-%20Mission%20to%20Moulokin(1979)[v1].html (115 of 166) [10/15/2004 12:52:51 PM]
Alan Dean Foster - Mission to Moulokin
Shouts rang out constantly, darting from towing raft to icerigger to raft as all concerned fought to
maintain equal tension on all cables. It seemed an impossible task, but the Moulokinese proved
themselves as skilled on the ships they built as they were in the shipyards. The cables thrummed and sang
of uneven pressures, but none snapped not even during the most danger-ous maneuver, when the seven
towing craft turned up the main canyon and the forceful interior winds struck them and their massive
ward.
Tacking as one, they pulled the great raft steadily inland.
Ethan rushed to the portside, found to his relief that the second wall which barred passage downcanyon
showed no sign of warlike activity. That meant the Poyos were still being stopped before the first wall. So
far, the confidence K'ferr of Moulokin had dis-played earlier seemed justified.
Great walls of dark stone drew close beside them, the roofless hallway of some ancient cataclysm. At
times Ethan found himself impatient for more speed, for their progess seemed abysmally slow. It was not
a journey that could be hurried, however. Not when seven ships had to maneuver as one.
On the fifth day, the ever-present walls began to shrink. Small side canyons, some hanging above ice-
level, began to break the cliff edges. Some were smooth as they vanished into the plateau, while oth-ers
dropped in steps similar to Moulokin's topography. Their own little canyon-born zephyrs contributed to
the difficulty of maneuvering.
Soon they were passing between cliff walls no more than twenty meters high. The lookouts on the Slan-
derscree's fore and mainmasts could see over them and study the terrain beyond. They reported seeing
only yellowish, wind-swept, inhospitable near-desert.
On the frigid morn of the eleventh day, when the canyon had ceased to be a canyon but was instead a
river of ice bordered by gently sloping banks, they entered an area where clouds of steam and mist blotted
out vision for all but a few meters in any di-rection. When they slid close to the banks, those on board the
rafts could make out thick, towering trees whose crowns were lost in gray water-down, boles more
massive than the largest growing in Moulokin's side canyon.
Before long a cry came from the lead raft in the triangular formation. They had reached the end of the
frozen river. Cables were cast off and neatly coiled aboard the Slanderscree. Finally the last was
disen-gaged and all seven tow rafts had moved carefully downriver from the icerigger.
The wind here was dispersed, indecisive. Quickly, Ta-holding had sail put on as the huge raft slid slowly
but aimlessly on the ice. Orders were given, spars ad-justed. A sound new to the ears of Tran sailors
pene-trated the mists: a deep, impressive rumbling. The icerigger was now traveling on land.
It stopped.
Lookouts forward reported that the first two sets of wheels were resting on a gentle beach of gravel and
grass-covered rock. Ta-hoding considered. Obviously, they had to put on more sail. But he was still leery
of sailing on naked soil. Williams, who was standing nearby on the helmdeck, did his best to reassure
him.
The plump captain remained skeptical. "I would rather have good, solid ice beneath my runners than," he
made it sound obscene, "bare ground. Still, we must gain more wind."
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]