Alan Dean Foster Commonwealth 04 Voyage To The City of the Dead

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Homat was neither impressed nor intimidated. The Tsla usually overawed
the Mai, but not him, not Homat. The hairy ones were bigger and stronger, but
not necessarily smarter. No, size was no indication of intelligence, as he
fully planned to prove.
"Do you know what this is?" he said, enjoying himself thoroughly as he
gestured with the device he held. "This is the humans' lightning thrower. I
have seen it operate many times. It may be difficult to build, but it is very
simple to use." He pointed toward the clip holsters attached to the lower part
of the control console.
"They sit there in their little homes, drawing strength from the spirit
world until they are ready to serve the humans. These spirits are stupid. They
do not respond to sacrifices or prayers or offerings, but will serve any who
learn the rituals of operation. I have made an extensive study of such rituals
these past many months."
"To what end?" Tyl inquired softly even as he estimated the distance
between them.
"You have seen the sunit that sleeps here, and the other metals. Enough
wealth to buy half the world."
"I am sure," Tyl said carefully, "that the humans would not object to
thee returning with enough of the gray metal to make thee wealthy until thy
passing."
"I'm sure they would allow me to bring a small amount, but not any more
than would interfere with the plain rocks de-Etienne has already collected,
for example. Why should I bow and scrape for a beggar's pouchful when I can
have all that the spirit boat can carry?" He produced a thin Mai smile. "I can
have the spirit boat itself. The sunit will make me master of Mai. This vessel
can make me master of the Groalamasan."
Tyl's initial anger dissolved into sadness and pity. "Poor Mai. Thy
dreams are so much larger than thy body."
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"Are they?" said Homat hoarsely. "I planned to wait, but you push me
toward delightenment. The Tsla have always pushed the Mai. In the end we will
overwhelm you. See, how simple the humans' spirit devices are to work? You
just touch this little round thing here..."
Etienne looked up from the base of the metallic mass he was studying,
using the crutch Lyra had fashioned for him from a scoop net, and glanced back
toward the boat. The glare from the two powerful spotlights made him squint.
"Did you hear something, hon?"
Lyre lifted her eyes from her work. She was trying to decide if some
scratches they'd discovered on one wall might be writing. "Hear what?"
"The boat. I thought I heard something arc."
She shrugged. "Missed my ears."
He thought a moment, glanced to his right. "Yulour. Did thee hear
anything from the spirit boat?"
The patient Tsla was sitting on the ground, playing with some colored
stones. "I heard nothing, Teacher."
Just then Etienne saw a shape approaching them. "Here's Homat. Maybe he
heard something."
Lyre returned to her studies and Etienne waited until their guide emerged
from the glare. "Homat, you were near the boat. Did you hear something?"
"Yes, Etienne." He sounded odd, Etienne thought, though he couldn't
define the difference. "I heard. It was your lightning thrower dealing
spirits."
Lyre heard that, slowly rose from where she'd been sil-ting.
Etienne spoke precisely. "The lightning thrower? You mean it went off?
How did that happen?'�
"The way it always happens." The Mai was careful to keep his distance
from Etienne, despite the severity of the man's injury. He removed the pistol
from the pocket of his thermal suit. Etienne stiffened and Lyra backed toward
the metal wall behind her.
"it happened," Homat continued, his confidence starting to build, "when I
touched this place you call the trigger. I touched it and called upon the
lightning spirits. I, Homat, did this."
Etienne struggled to choose the right words. "That's a very dangerous
thing to do, Homat. You don't know what you're doing. The lightning spirits
can be very unpredictable. You could hurt yourself."
Homat laughed softly. "You clever humans. You come here from another
world, with your wonderful magical de-vices, and you try to make us think none
but you can make them work." He shook the asynapt at them. "Well, I can make
them work!
"Where is Teacher Tyl?" Yulour asked uncertainly, look-ing past the Mai
toward the hydrofoil.
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"Be quiet, simpleton. The meditator is dead. I killed him, with this." He
shook the pistol again.
"But why?" Lyra cried as she looked toward the boat.
Homat's voice was as icy as the air around them. "To make certain that I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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