[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

expectantly. "We're in the harbor, between the ends of two piers. But I don't recognize anything, and I
don't see the ship."
"Let me through." With much squirming and wig-gling, Hunnar slipped past Ethan. Elfa, Teeliam,
Tersund and another sailor followed him, their musk strong in the confined corridor. Hunnar looked back
down at Ethan.
"My strangely clothed friends, you must remain here. Both you and your wondrous weapons are too
conspicuous." Then Hunnar spread his dan, hunched over, and let the wind take him away.
Minutes became hours of worry. What if they were captured? Worse, what if some wandering Poyo
sol-dier discovered the hole in the ice? These and a dozen other deleterious scenarios played on the stage
of Ethan's mind before Hunnar's voice whispered above him.
"We've found the ship. 'Tis two piers over. There are but a few sentries aboard her and they sleep the
dreams of the bored and ordered-about. Some sleep sounder than that. Come."
Remaining silent, but obviously glad to be back on the surface again, the crew of the Slanderscree
emerged from the tunnel. Ethan knew that the sentries who were "sleeping sounder than that" were the
ones who had unwittingly provided Hunnar and his com-panions with the swords and lances they now
carried.
The prisoners assembled beneath the low underside of a thirty-five-meter merchant raft. It was broad
enough of beam to conceal the entire crew.
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Alan Dean Foster - Mission to Moulokin
"We could do no better than to chivan as fast as possible for the ship and raise sail before the city pa-trols
can react." Hunnar hefted his sword. "We have weapons enough."
" 'Tis so!" growled a sailor nearby, flexing furry fin-gers armed with sharp, stubby claws.
"This meets your approval, my friends?" Hunnar looked at the three humans.
September nodded. "I'm not much for subtle strat-egies either. Let's do it."
All three readied their beamers again, hoping they wouldn't have to employ the revealing energy
weap-ons. Hunnar moved out into the moonlight, and then in groups of five the crew raced silently across
the ice toward the waiting icerigger.
With their skates lockered aboard, the three humans used the simplest method of making the dash across
the slippery surface. Sitting down, each extended his arms back over his head. A. sailor grabbed a wrist in
one hand, a second the other. Spreading their dan, they took off across the open stretch of harbor.
Ethan could only lament his undignified position and pray the tough material of the survival suit held. It
did so, but even the friction generated by such a short journey raised a portion of the suit's tempera-ture
above what its compensators considered comfort-able.
All boarding ladders were still draped invitingly over the railings. Spreading out beneath the vast
underbody of the icerigger, her crew commenced a half hysteri-cal climb upward, utilizing every
available ladder.
There wasn't a soul on board. "Apparently," Sep-tember murmured, "they decided freezing out in the
night a bad choice with so many inviting taverns nearby. But wouldn't they wonder at their companions
whom you dispatched, Hunnar?"
"I imagine," the knight said with a wolfish grin, "that they left for warmth and drink because they
as-sumed their absent fellows had already done so."
"The Landgrave has great confidence in his dun-geons." Ethan relaxed gratefully. There would be no
fighting here.
"Why should he not?" said Teeliam, looking around for someone to kill and evidently disappointed at
find-ing no one. "None have ever escaped from them in memory."
"No one has ever traveled through Hell before, ei-ther." Elfa spoke in a way that indicated she was
re-ferring to more than just their journey through ice and ocean.
"Quick now!" Ta-hoding gave rapid orders to his crew. "Up sail and quiet about it!"
With the prospect of imminent freedom to energize them, the sparmen assaulted the rigging like birds.
Sails began to unfurl, filling silently.
Spreading his dan, which in the light night breeze were barely adequate to carry his porcine body up the
iceramp, the captain chivaned his way to the helm-deck. From there he shouted in low tones to the sail-ors
astern to hurry in with the ice anchors. Other crewmembers were at work on the pier, quietly and with
feverish efficiency slipping pika-pina cables from cleat and capstan.
Though the Tran moved with the silence of a tribe of sock-footed ants, so much activity could not remain
unnoticed forever. Before long a voice called out in the darkness.
"Who's there? Who's on board the prize?"
Sailors on deck and shore desperately tried to spot the caller. A minute passed, and then it did not mat-ter.
"Help! The prisoners have escaped!" There was as much astonishment as urgency in that cry. "Guard to
the ships, guard to the ships, and ware devils the "
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Alan Dean Foster - Mission to Moulokin
There was a twang. One of the sailors had armed himself with a crossbow from the ship's armory. Now he
let fly from the mizzenmast and the alarming words changed to an indecipherable gurgling. There was the
faint, distant flump of something striking the ground.
Too late. Other voices sounded now on shore, called querulously to one another and to the unresponsive
shapes moving about the great raft. Ta-hoding, drop-ping all pretense of concealment, moved to the helm-
deck railing and roared instructions liberally laced with invective at the crew.
Ponderously, with adjustable spars turning, the Slanderscree began to gain sternway and back clear of the
pier. Sailors still on the dock saw armed figures chivaning at them, jumped aboard. There was not enough
time to loosen all the cables.
A concatenation of bizarre clangings, rips and tears, groans and inanimate protests sounded from the
dock. The incredible pika-pina cables held, but the dock did not. Pinions and cleats ripped free of their
sockets, flew toward the massive raft, while Poyos on the pier turned about and tried to protect themselves
from fly-ing bone and wood.
On board the Slanderscree the boarding ladders were brought in, several with sailors still clinging to
them. Looking as if they would sweat if they could, Ta-hoding's helmsmen threw the great wheel hard
over. The icerigger continued to move backward, her bow swinging steadily around to the north. As soon
as it cleared the outermost pier, the spars would shift and the westwind would fill the sails from behind.
They could see oil lamps massing along the shore, spilling out onto the ice. Shouts of outrage and
confu-sion flared as unevenly and brightly as the flames. A
few arrows and a couple of spears flew at the great, ghostly shape of the icerigger. Most fell short, a pair
stuck into the rear of the helmdeck as it swung land-ward.
Within the waking city, horns were droning like un-dertakers. Drums howled more urgently, and edgy
sol-diers loosed arrows at the moons.
"Over spars!" Ta-hoding bellowed. "Over spars!" echoed his mates. The Slanderscree's sails came [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]