The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers (10 page)

“I couldn’t try anything,” said the little man, hurt. “You all understand as much as I.”

“It’s not your language that worries me, it’s your ravishing appearance. It’s sufficiently distorted to frighten even a well-balanced primitive. I’d rather show a little surface symmetry until we know them better. They might be skittish. We can’t take a chance on frightening away potential help.”

Walther grumbled but couldn’t find an argument to counter with.

September turned to the du Kanes. “With all due respect, neither of you understands the language. So you stay behind us, too.” That seemed to suit the two cosmopolitan travelers quite well.

“Everyone knows his or her place, then? Good!” He turned to Ethan. “All right, young feller-me-lad, it’s yours.”

Ethan put a hand on the door latch, spoke to September.

“Know any good opening lines for interspecies contact? They’ve probably never seen a human being before.”

“No but hum a few bars and I’ll wing it.” He chuckled, shoved. “Now get going.”

Fortunately Ethan had already opened the door. The shove might have sent him through it.

S
IR HUNNAR REDBEARD SQUINTED
hard, but they were still too far away to make out the number of figures standing next to the mass of odd shaping. It truly seemed to be made of metal.

When Eer-Meesach had come running into the Great Hall babbling his hysterical tale of a fiery thing of metal falling from the sky, Hunnar had been one of the skeptical ones.

The wizard had insisted that his telescope told him the outside of the thing was at least coated with solid metal that shone like a dancer’s tiara. And on top of that, he’d insisted he’d seen two creatures emerge from the metal and walk onto the island.

Now he could see it for himself and he momentarily forgot about the creatures. So much metal! If it were as good as steel it would be a valuable prize indeed. They would need every scrap they could gather if the Longax’s plan to contest the Horde were to pass in Council.

It would be crucial to deal correctly with the strange beings. It would also be nice merely to chivan up and lop off a few heads. But not necessarily practical. For one thing, Eer-Meesach would never forgive him. Hunnar made a Sign. He didn’t want his bed turned into a rollicking Gutorrbyn in the midst of a mating.

Also, any beings who could make that much metal stay up in the sky might be able to do unpleasant things to a person. No doubt they knew the value of their metal.

One thought had troubled him all the way out from Wannome. Could they be gods? Gray-maned, omnipotent, immortal gods? It could not yet be ruled out.

However, the wizard’s description of the way in which their craft had descended implied lack of control by infallible immortals. Rather it sounded more like cubs caught on a runaway sled.

But he would reserve his final judgment until after viewing. That would please his teachers.

But so much metal!

He stared at the fallen thing. One fact seemed certain. Whatever they were, their eyesight seemed as good as his own. A group of them appeared to be assembling just outside the ship—he’d reluctantly come to consider it a vessel of sorts. They were standing on the edge of the island. This in itself was an odd thing to do. But by voluntarily restricting themselves to land, they might be making a friendly gesture. Hunnar had the right idea but the wrong reason.

He grinned ferociously. It might mean that these strangers were afraid to do battle with him. Otherwise they would have come out to meet him.

There were five … no, six of the beings. It looked like only one was built along warrior lines. Better and better.

“Suaxus!” he shouted to his first lieutenant, “break left! Vasen, Smjör, with him!” He turned, eating air. “Budjir, break right with Avyeh and Hivell!”

The nine tran immediately split into three groups. They would make a three-pronged approach. Not only was it a sensible precaution, it should also impress their visitors. He’d given Suaxus the left and slightly less wind. The squire was impatient and something of a problem, but basically one of the soundest in training.

And you, Hunnar? Whose grandfather are you, eh? Maturity, he reminded himself, was not necessarily a function of age.

He signaled. On one side of the arrowhead formation, three tran abruptly dropped their left arms. The tough membrane that stretched from wrist to hip folded and the three soldiers leaned slightly to the left. The wind pushed hard and steady into the right wing as three sets of claw-blades dug hard into the ice. The squire and two soldiers made a neat sixty-degree turn to port. Budjir and his men duplicated the maneuver to starboard.

They were getting close already and Hunnar wondered if he’d delayed too long.

“Hafel down!” he ordered his companions. They all lowered their arms and cut speed. It wouldn’t do for them to reach their objective in advance of their flanking companions. Certainly Eer-Meesach and possibly the Landgrave himself were watching from the wizard’s tower. This was no time for sloppiness.

“And be careful when you brake!” he added. Greeting their visitors with a shower of sharp ice-chips would not be facile diplomacy either.

His lance felt light in his right paw. They were almost on top of the strangers, who’d made nothing resembling a hostile move. They were pink-faced and seemed a surprisingly light color, except for one who was a dark brown. While their color varied from individual to individual, by and large it was like that of a fresh-born cub.

He saw Suaxus approaching rapidly from the left and let out his own wings a little more. Budjir would notice the speed-up and match pace perfectly. Looking ahead to the strangers, Hunnar could not make out a single sword, axe, lance, even a knife. Of course, he reminded himself, there could be fifty others armed to the teeth hiding within the metal bottle.

Still, if they wanted to fight they’d have to move from land to ice, and Hunnar had both wind and sun behind him. Let them try something! These first six, at least, would go down like a herd of mewing hoppers.

Be careful, idiot! You’re not thinking diplomatically again. Then the time for daydreaming was past.

“Up lances!” he commanded loudly, “and brake in!”

Suaxus and Budjir arrived almost simultaneously. Neatly done, he complimented himself. Anyone in the castle observing the maneuver couldn’t be anything but pleased.

Hunnar and his men raised their weapons to the perpendicular, turned slightly left, and dug in. Torn free by the sharp claws of the tran soldiers, a shower of ice fragments flew in a glittering cascade to the left. They missed the aliens completely. A couple of them flinched, but the ones in front held proper ground.

One in the rear, however, did utter a short, high-pitched sound. It sounded a little like a yip of uncertainty to Hunnar.

But for all he knew of these odd folk it could have been laughter. The same being had immediately clutched tight to another. Mates, he decided. Another good sign. As yet it was difficult to tell male from female.

It might be impossible to tell without a dissection. There you go again, he cautioned himself. If only this had happened a year ago, his mind would move more easily.

Well, if there were more of the odd creatures concealed in the metal ship, then these were excellent bluffers. Not a one had thrown a look in that direction. With one exception, these all appeared badly undernourished. None of them were children, either. No, they were not that short, but they
were
dreadfully thin. And much of that seemed to be clothing.

For their part the little knot of humans was suitably impressed by Sir Hunnar himself. But then, the knight was an impressive specimen even among his own people. He stood as tall as September and was nearly twice as broad. Great thick arms ended in hands with three fingers and thumb. These supported folded membranous wings between wrist and hip.

The feet were short, with thick, elongated toes. Each of the three toes held a greatly stretched single claw that narrowed to a sharp blade at the base, forming a kind of triple skate on each foot. The fourth toe was short and had shifted around to the back of the heel. It sported a squat, stubby point that served as a brake when dug into the ice.

While traveling toward the lifeboat, the tran had presented a shorter appearance. This because they moved in a crouch, offering less surface in proportion to wing area. It also helped to maintain balance in the tricky winds.

The barrel-chested torso was covered with short, soft fur. Each soldier wore a thick coat of rich, umber fur from the hessavar. This was cinched at the waist by a belt of hammered gold disks and tooled leather. A short, double-bladed sword was strapped securely to Hunnar’s left leg. An evil-looking dirk rode on his right hip.

A necklace of ugly saw-edged teeth from the krokim fell from the thick neck onto the coat. The hood closely resembled the hoods of their own survival parkas, with the exception of twin slits made to admit the furry, triangular ears. A strap ran around the front edge of the hood and tied beneath the chin to keep the wind from pulling it off the wearer’s head.

The face that stared down at them was uncompromisingly feline, with slitted eyes of bright yellow. The pupils were a startling deep-space black. A broad flat nose, high brow, and wide mouth filled with flat and pointed teeth completed the portrait. The tran were omnivorous.

Body fur was steel-gray, a couple of the soldiers sporting patches of black over the muzzle and at the tips of the ears. One other besides Hunnar possessed a short beard. Hunnar’s beard and facial fur were distinctive in their rust-tinge, almost ochre.

“Say something to ’em, young feller,” whispered September out of the side of his mouth.

Ethan hurriedly tried to assemble a proper opening sentence, dropping verbs into place, shoring up uncertainties with the right pronouns.

“We are a … uh … caravan that has lost its sails,” he began. “The wind blew us false and we travel now on the breath of mercy.” He took two careful steps onto the ice—this was no time for a pratfall—and stood on tiptoe. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled right into the native’s face, praying all the while that none of the germs in his body could effect this mountain of fur in front of him.

Everyone remained motionless for a moment. Then the ferocious-looking primitive relaxed his mouth into a wide grin—without showing his teeth. He leaned over and breathed a fog of frozen air back into Ethan’s face.

“My breath is your warmth,” he said, not with a little relief himself. At least these strangers were civilized. Tactical advantage or no, he was gratified that a fight didn’t seem in the offing.

“Put up your lances,” he instructed the others. “They appear to be friendly.” The last wasn’t really necessary. They’d all heard Ethan’s little speech and observed the greeting.

“We are very trusting today,” Suaxus grumbled, but mostly to himself. He did not relax.

The tran eased, retracting their blades almost entirely. At that point Ethan almost made a fatal mistake.

“Would you like to go inside our ship,” he offered smoothly, “and get out of this infernal wind?”

Hunnar jerked back and two of his men reached for their swords. He wished he could read the alien’s expression.

“Why?” Hunnar asked tightly, his palm itching for his own weapon. “Why would we want to get out of the wind?” he prompted, since the other seemed dumbstruck by their reaction.

“I think I understand,” said Ethan finally. “Where we come from, up there,” and he pointed skyward, “our world is much warmer than this. Your unending hurricane is hard on us. I didn’t think you’d regard it otherwise. Honest, that’s all I thought.” The soldiers relaxed again. Hunnar didn’t bother to correct the alien’s reasoning. Leaving ice and wind would take away their small tactical advantage. But it seemed the other was truly ignorant of this.

“I accept your words,” he said, “but find some of them hard to believe. This is a very pleasant summer day. One could even travel comfortably coatless. But in truth, I would like to see the inside of your vessel.”

He’d put that awfully crudely, after his initial reaction. But that was one of their prime objectives. He was a knight and not a herald, dammit.

“It would make things easier for us,” Ethan replied. “Of course you may.”

September clambered into the windswept boat, leaned out and gave Ethan a hand up.

“I caught most of that,” he said softly. “Why did that line about ‘getting out of the wind’ put them on guard at first?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan answered, struggling for a foothold. He got in, turned to help Williams.

“No, wait, I think I do know. Obviously this is a bunch of local troops, or militia, or whatever. Once out of the wind they must sacrifice a great deal of maneuverability. The way they can move on that ice! Did you notice that none of them came up onto the island?”

“That’s true,” September agreed. “A large scale battle on this world must combine the actions of infantry with old-time sailing ships. Fascinating!”

“I’ve no desire to see even two of them angry,” Ethan countered. “Look at their size. Better not to provoke them.”

“Might be different than you think, lad.” The humans were aboard and now the tran were making their cautious way up. “I noticed something a mite intriguing myself.”

“Do tell,” asked Ethan, watching Hunnar. Watching the way his eyes tried to drink in every detail of the ruined boat.

“Well, their weight should have driven those claws of theirs a lot deeper into the ice than it does. They may be the greatest muscular specimens since the Pitar, but I’ll wager a platinum doubloon that their bones are light. Maybe even partly hollow, like birds. I’m sure they’re much lighter than they look.

“You, young feller-me-lad, may be only half as big as one of those blokes. But you might come out ahead in a shoving match.”

“I’ve no desire to test that theory,” Ethan replied feelingly, “not even by friendly arm-wrestling.”

While Hunnar wasn’t in the wizard’s class when it came to rapid cogitation, even a ten-year cub could tell that this amazing vessel was in no condition to fly anyplace. The great open holes in roof and sides, the shredded acceleration couches and twisted fixture mountings; everything indicated the vessel had not set down as its designers had intended.