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receive him and a selected deputation of their senior people here, aboard the
Trojan. Make appropriate arrangements to host them. Cuisine in the Officers
Dining Room would be suitable-but not VIP standard. Limit the number to ten
and get a list of the names they intend sending, which I want to see before
it s confirmed. Does anyone have anything to add? Nobody did. Since they were
in the superior bargaining position and setting the terms, protocol required
that the representatives from the Aztec come to them.
 I ll get onto it right away, Walsh said.
 One more thing, Ludwig Grasse put in. Valcroix turned to him.  Zeigler has
been holding out against difficult odds there on Earth. To boost his morale, I
think we should let him know that interception of the Aztec has been
accomplished successfully. I doubt if he ll learn of it from elsewhere for
some time.
Trojan had maintained communications silence since its takeover en route for
Jupiter. Kronia would have been informed of its appearance as soon as it was
identified by Aztec, but there was nothing anybody could have done to prevent
that. Even if those at Kronia had had their suspicions previously, there was
no reason why they would communicate them to Earth, more so in view of the
uncertain situation that they would have discerned there too. Now that they
knew for sure of
Trojan s part in the scheme, they would be under no further delusions as to
what had happened on
Earth. Hence, they wouldn t be sending news there of the success of the
Trojan s mission.
 A good point, Valcroix agreed.  Yes, by all means, let s keep Zeigler in the
picture. I m sure he could use all the good news he can get. Can you take care
of that too, Captain Walsh?
 Right away, Walsh promised.
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CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The Oldworlders said that men had once lived in palaces-huge structures that
they built as level upon level rising higher than the cliffs above the caves.
Jemmo had decided that caves were dark, damp, inhospitably shaped, and
unbecoming of his status. He wanted to build himself a palace.
The line of rock outcrops connected by earth ramparts that had once been the
defensive barrier enclosing the front of the caves was now forming parts of
dwelling huts, inner works, and animal pens. The population had grown. And
nobody any longer lived down in the swamps, all the people having migrated up
to the caves. The extended settlement around the caves was now bounded by a
wall built from rocks cemented by dried mud. On the outside of it was a ditch,
and on the inside a protected step for defenders, raised posts to provide
elevate positions for watchmen and archers.
Access was via two gates, one backing the other, made from thick root-wood and
branches brought up from the swamps, and woven with thorns. On the heights
above the caves was a lookout tower, also built from mud-cemented rocks.
The Oldworlder Wakabe had become Jemmo s builder. Jemmo wanted him to build
the palace.
But whatever Jemmo wanted, always, it seemed, all anybody could tell him were
the problems. He didn t want to hear about what couldn t be done. Just for
once, couldn t someone just agree and do it? The problem with building a
palace, he was told, was that of bridging the roof.
He scowled as he stood with Wakabe and a couple of Wakabe s helpers in front
of the four-
walled enclosure that Wakabe had built to try out his latest attempt at a
solution. The space between the walls was spanned by a mat of woven vines with
mud worked into it to form a solid shell.
When the mud dried, Wakabe had added another layer on top, and when that
dried, another, the intention being that it would become strong enough to
support additional loads above. But the work was showing cracks that had
spread and widened more since yesterday, Jemmo wouldn t have risked walking
under it, never mind have trusted his weight on top.
 The mud needs to be bound, Wakabe explained.  It has no strength against
extension. We ve never used it this way before. In the walls it has always
been compressed, not extended. It needs grass mixed in to bind it. Or reeds
might be better. I have to try different things.
 You said your Oldworld people built palaces higher than the cliff, Jemmo
grumbled.  Yet you can t build me just one roof?
 They had trees then. Beams of wood as thick as a man s thigh, as long as five
times a man s height. And metal ones, even longer and stronger. We have to
learn to work without such things.
Jemmo seethed inside. But it would only make him look foolish to try and
command what could not be. He wanted the cave settlement strengthened and
secured in preparation for a campaign to extend his domain to the east.
Long-range scouting parties despatched in that direction had encountered other
humans survivors from the Great Terror and the Long Night, and engaged them in
several skirmishes. But he was still uncertain as to their numbers. It could
turn out that he and his people became objects of similar ambitions coming the
other way, and so a strong defense was the first essential.
He pointed toward the middle of the space with the rifle he was holding. The
bullets had all been used long ago, but he still carried it as an emblem of
status, along with his red headband and hide cape fastened with a clasp.  You
need to support it there. Why can t you make a pillar from stones and mud,
built as you do with the walls? It needs support in the center.
 Yes. That might help a lot, Wakabe agreed deferentially.  It will be done.
Jemmo felt satisfied, having been seen to add something constructive. He was
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about to add more, when a shout sounded from the tower above the cliff. People
were drawing into groups, chattering excitedly, looking up at the sky.
 There! Wakabe exclaimed, pointing. Jemmo looked.
Outside the wall, something long and pointed, the shape of a spearhead, gray
in color, was descending from the sky. It was like a gliding bird, but
smoother and straighter in its lines, and much larger-a metal bird such as the
Oldworlders spoke of. Others had told of seeing such things in the sky
recently, but never this close to the caves. Jemmo had never observed one
personally. It moved slowly along the far side of the wall, following its
line, as if searching the ground inside.
Then it made a sudden move closer, bringing it immediately above the wall, at
the same time swinging around to point toward where Jemmo and the others were
standing. Jemmo had the eerie feeling that it was searching him out
personally. Cold fingers of the fear that comes from confrontation with the
totally unknown clawed in his stomach. But he forced them back down and strode
several paces forward to glower up at the object defiantly.  My war club! he
called to Iyala, his henchman, who was never far away.  Summon spearmen and
archers. But Iyala was already giving the orders. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]