Part 10 (1/2)

1.

”They patrol outside the wall to keep people away,” the small thief said. ”After all, a lot of prisoners have family and friends on the outside, and a fair part of Zusiik's population would help in a jailbreak. Even after thirty years, Kremer's northmen ain't too popular hereabouts.”

Dennis nodded. ”But do the guards inspect the wall on the outside as carefully as they do inside?”

The escape committee numbered five. They were gathered around a rickety table eating the noon meal. The prisoners sat in flimsy, uncomfortable chairs. It would have been better just to stand, but practicing the chairs was another of their jobs.

Gath Glinn, the youngest member of their group, squatted in the shadows beside the nearby castle wall, huddled over Dennis's prototype escape device. The sandy-haired youth had been the first to catch on to the Earthman's idea and had been a.s.signed to try it out.

He stopped working and covered the device whenever the others indicated the guards were near.

Right now his hands moved rapidly back and forth, and the little tool he practiced made soft ”zizzing” sounds.

The short, dark man whom Dennis vaguely remembered yelling at on his first day in jail shook his head and answered Dennis's question.

”Naw, Denniz. Sometimes they take gangs of us out to throw rocks at the wall. But mostly they make us practice it from th' inside.”

Dennis was still routinely puzzled by things his fellow prisoners told him. His look must have showed it.

Stivyung Sigel looked left and right to make sure no one had approached too close. ”What Arth means, Dennis, is that another of our jobs is to practice the wall itself into being a better wall.”

The farmer seemed to have caught on that Dennis came from someplace far away, where things were very different from here. It seemed to puzzle him that civilization could exist in a land where things didn't get better with use, but he appeared willing to give Dennis the benefit of the doubt.

”I see.” Dennis nodded. ”That's why those men are allowed to chop away at the wall like that, without being stopped by the guards.” He had seen groups of prisoners lackadaisically attacking the palisade, and the wall of the castle itself, with crude mallets. He had wondered why it was permitted.

”Right, Dennis. The Baron wants the wall stronger, so he has prisoners scratch at it.” Stivyung shrugged at explaining something so basic. ”Of course, the guards make sure they don't use good tools while doing it. This way, in the course of time, the outermost wall will grow more and more like the one behind us, they'll roof it over then, and the castle will grow that much larger.”

Dennis looked up at the palace. He understood the wedding cake geometry now. When the Coylians built a structure it started out little better than a rude lean-to. When it was finally coverted, after years of practice, into a solid one-story building, another crude structure was built on top. While the second story improved, the first became better at supporting weight on its roof and grew outward as lateral additions were made.

As long as someone lived in it thereafter, the building was practiced at holding together. Only if abandoned would it slowly revert, eventually to collapse into a tumble of sticks and mud and animal hides.

Dennis didn't imagine there would be much for archaeologists to find on this world, once a great city was abandoned.

”They also check to make sure we practice all the wall,”

Arth added. The diminutive thief claimed to be a leader among the burglars and thieves in the town of Zuslik. From the respect the other prisoners paid him, Dennis didn't doubt it.

”O' course, we always try to leave patches of wall to revert to old logs. . so's we could really break through. They patrol looking for such practice gaps. It's a game o' wits.” He grinned, as if certain the game could be won sooner or later.

The zizzing sound behind them suddenly ended in a sharp snap.

Young Oath held up the severed end of the piece of wood, beaming at Dennis admiringly.

”The flexible saw worked!” he whispered in excitement. He looked around to make sure no guards were near, then handed the tool to Dennis.

The teeth were warm from friction. On Earth they would have shown signs of wear after cutting just that little piece of soft wood.

But Gath had been thinking ”Cut! Cut!” as he worked. And now, thanks to the gentle practice, the zipper was just a little sharper than before.

Dennis shook his head. It was a h.e.l.luva purpose to put a zipper to.

Those sealing the pockets of his overalls were all of soft plastic. He had had to rip the metal zipper from his pants-his fly was now shut with three crude b.u.t.tons that he hoped would get better with use: Certainly he wasn't about to use this zipper in its old purpose again!

”Good work, Gath. We'll arrange for you to get on sick call so you can practice this saw to perfection. The night it's finished-”

Arth interrupted quickly with a comment on the weather. In a moment a pair of guards pa.s.sed nearby. The prisoners developed an interest in their meal until they had gone.

When the coast was clear, Dennis offered to pa.s.s the saw around.

All but Stivyung Sigel politely refused. Apparently the average person here was a bit superst.i.tious toward those who put ”essence” into a tool-the original craftsmen who ”made” tools in the first place, rather than practiced them to perfection. They probably saw magic in it because it used a principle they had never seen before.

He handed the zipper back to Gath, who palmed it eagerly.

Then lunch was over. The guards started calling them back to work.

Dennis's present job was to attack suits of armor with a blunt, hollow spear-while the soldier-owners wore them! It was exacting work. If he hit the soldier hard enough to hurt, he was struck with a whip. If he struck too softly, the guards shouted and threatened to beat him.

”From now on we take turns watching over Gath to make sure he can practice undisturbed,” he said as he stood up. ”And we keep him supplied with wood to cut. We'll discuss the rest of the plan later.”

The escape committee all nodded. As far as they were concerned, he was the wizard.

The guards called again and Dennis hurried to work. One of the punishments for tardiness was to have one's personal property taken away. Though he now wore homespun like the others, he was allowed to keep his overalls, to ”practice” them on his own time. The last thing he wanted was to have them confiscated.

Three hours after lunch, a bell was rung announcing the beginning of a religious service. A red-robed prison chaplain set up an altar near the castle postern, and the cry went out for the faithful to gather.

Those who did not partic.i.p.ate had to keep working, so most of the prisoners downed tools at once and sauntered over. In spite of a spate of irreverent chuckles, the majority partic.i.p.ated.

A few, such as the thief, Arth, remained at work in the garden, shaking their heads and muttering disapproval.

Dennis wanted to watch the ceremony. But he saw no way to attend as just a spectator. The paris.h.i.+oners bowed and chanted before a row of wooden and gemstone idols.

He finally decided to stay with Stivyung Sigel. For the last hour the two of them had been a.s.signed to chopping wood, using caveman-type axes under a guard's watchful eye.

”It doesn't look like most of our fellow prisoners take the state religion too seriously,” Dennis suggested to Stivyung sotto voce.

Sigel flexed his powerful shoulders and brought his ax down in a great arc, sending splinters of wood flying in all directions. He looked incongruous chopping in Baron Kremer's brilliant clothes, but this was all part of Sigel's job. The overlord of Zuslik didn't like his clothes to bind. After this practice they would be supple.

”Zuslikers used to be pretty easygoing about religion under the old Duke,” Sigel said. ”But when Kremer's dad and grandad marched in, they right off started grantin' favors to the church and the guilds, which is funny, since the northern hillmen never were such great believers before that.”

Dennis nodded. It was a familiar pattern. In Earth history, barbarians often had become the fiercest defenders of the established orthodoxy after they had conquered.

He raised his ax and took a whack at his own log. The crude stone blade bounced back, hardly making a dent.

”I take it you're not a believer, either,” he asked Sigel.

The other man shrugged. ”All these G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses really don't make a lot of sense. In the kingdom cities back east they're losing their following. Some folk are even starting to pay attention to the Old Belief, like the L'Toff have followed all along.”

Dennis was about to ask about the ”Old Belief but the guard growled at them, '”ere now! Pray or woork, you two. Coot th' gab!”