Part 51 (1/2)
”Stornzof. I see.”
”Yes, we'd been traveling together,” she confided, noting with grim satisfaction that his amus.e.m.e.nt had evaporated. ”But when we reached the roadblock, he pa.s.sed through while I could not, and the soldiers urged me to call on them for help, should I need it. Well, it seems that I need it now.”
”I see,” Girays repeated. He considered. ”You'd really do it, wouldn't you?”
”Ask the Grewzians for help, you mean? They offered, and I haven't much choice. I can't walk to Ukizik.”
”The theatrics are unnecessary. You know that I won't leave you stranded here, and you also know that I wouldn't care to see you trade for advantage upon some fictional status as the 'little friend' of a Grewzian officer.”
”Oh, is that what they'd think I am?” she murmured, gently amazed, and before he could reply, inquired, ”You're offering me a ride in your sleigh, then?”
”At least until we're clear of the Grewzian army.”
”I accept,” she replied, adding with real feeling, ”Thank you, Girays. You're kinder than I deserve.”
”Someday, when you least expect it, I'll remind you that you said so.”
”Think the road's open yet?”
”That's the first thing we'll check,” he told her. ”If it's still closed, we'll have to choose. Stay or go? Wait around another day, or retreat and rethink our route?”
”I can't stand any more waiting. Karsler's pulling farther ahead every minute. And Tchornoi too, for all I know.”
”Tchornoi's probably pa.s.sed out cold on the floor of that tavern down in Slekya.”
”I hope so. More for his sake than for ours, I sincerely hope so.”
They prepared for departure as quickly as possible, eating a hurried cold breakfast, then stuffing their belongings any which way into the sleigh. While Girays harnessed the horse, Luzelle took up a hatchet and set about replenis.h.i.+ng the woodpile. Expecting argument, she was pleasantly surprised by Girays's complaisance. He voiced no objection, but simply let her finish the task in peace.
The morning skies were dull with leaden clouds, the sun hidden, and the grey world all but devoid of shadows when they set off in Girays's sleigh, retracing yesterday's route. Luzelle's nose tickled, and she caught the tang of smoke on the breeze. The scent strengthened as the vehicle advanced. Long before they reached the site of the roadblock, a detachment of some half-dozen Grewzian soldiers burst from the woods to bar the way.
”Halt.” The language was Grewzian, but the command would have been clear in any tongue. Girays pulled up at once. The language was Grewzian, but the command would have been clear in any tongue. Girays pulled up at once.
Where were the civilized faces of yesterday? Half a dozen service rifles were aimed at Girays's chest. Luzelle stared incredulously, almost too surprised for fear.
”Identification.” The detachment leader, a sergeant possessed of angry eyes, looked ready and willing to kill.
”Vonahrish travelers.” Girays produced his pa.s.sport.
Luzelle did likewise.
The sergeant checked both doc.u.ments and handed them back. ”No traffic. Clear the road,” he said.
”We will go back the way we came,” Girays offered.
”Not permitted. Clear the road,” the sergeant repeated. ”Pull over to the side.”
”Please, sir,” Luzelle softly braved the angry eyes. ”Tell us what happens here, if you please.”
He weighed the request, then measured his answer by the syllable. ”Rhazaullean terrorist caught wandering the woods last night. Exchange of fire, two soldiers of the Imperium killed. Rhazaullean probably wounded, but he escaped to find refuge in the village down below.”
Tchornoi, thought Luzelle. That brave drunken imbecile. That brave drunken imbecile. She lowered her eyes to disguise all knowledge. Girays's face, visible to her in profile, was perfectly still. She lowered her eyes to disguise all knowledge. Girays's face, visible to her in profile, was perfectly still.
”Until this situation has been resolved, the road is closed in both directions. Pull over and stay out of the way, or you will be regarded as enemy partisans and dealt with accordingly.” The sergeant turned away, terminating the exchange.
Girays obeyed. At the side of the TransBruzh he climbed out of the sleigh and led the horse through a gap in the trees, across a gloomy shaded expanse to the brink of a sharp drop, almost a precipice, overlooking the valley and the lake. Smoke strangled the breeze, and from this vantage point it was easy to see why. The village of Slekya was burning.
The picture-pretty dwellings spouted flame. Fire sheathed the walls and gabled roofs, wrapped quaint turrets and cupolas, shot from windows and open doorways. Every building in town blazed, and several blackened wrecks had already collapsed. Through the dense clouds of dark smoke blanketing the main street scurrying human figures were intermittently visible, and screaming human voices intermittently audible. Orderly detachments of grey-uniformed figures roamed everywhere, overturning wagons and carts, plying torches, clubbing civilians. One such detachment, comprising some dozen members, could be glimpsed methodically ripping the clothing off a couple of panic-stricken local women.
Luzelle turned her face aside. ”Take me away from here,” she requested tonelessly.
”Can't,” Girays told her. ”Don't look.”
But she could not follow his advice, could not forbear watching as the Grewzians marched a large group of male civilians straight up the main street to the edge of the lake, where they halted. The captives, ranging in age from prep.u.b.escent boy to white-haired gaffer, were neatly lined up along the bank. One of them-black bearded, right arm bound in a white sling, towering half a head over the tallest of his compatriots-was unmistakable even at a distance.
An order was issued, the grey soldiers opened fire, and Rhazaulleans fell by the score. Several attempting to flee across the frozen lake were dropped in their tracks by sharpshooters, and their blood spread dark stains across the pale ice. The black-haired giant gave a yell and rushed at the Grewzians, whose bullets cut him down in an instant. There was a brief lull as the soldiers paused to reload, then rifle fire resumed and continued until no Rhazaullean remained upright.
A tangle of bloodied bodies littered the bank. Several victims stirred and moaned yet. New commands were issued and the soldiers moved in to finish their work with bayonets. The steel blades worked for a few minutes more, and then their activity ceased. The villagers lay still and the soldiers marched away.
Luzelle turned to Girays. She looked at him and saw that she did not need to say anything. He understood her thoughts and feelings just as she grasped his, despite all differences, because they were made of the same stuff. It was like a rush of clean air to smoke-filled lungs, this mutual unspoken comprehension; it was strength and life. Tears blurred her eyes.
He opened his arms, and she went into them.
THE HILLS NORTH OF SLEKYA were free of smoke. From his vantage point atop an icy bluff Karsler Stornzof commanded a clear view of the ma.s.sacre. He stood there alone, having declined his countrymen's offer of an escort. For the first time since the race began he was attired in civilian garments, for he now ventured on his own deep into enemy territory, where the sight of a Grewzian uniform would incite attack. The Rhazaulleans would rend him limb from limb if they knew what he was; in light of what he witnessed by dawn's light, he could hardly blame them. were free of smoke. From his vantage point atop an icy bluff Karsler Stornzof commanded a clear view of the ma.s.sacre. He stood there alone, having declined his countrymen's offer of an escort. For the first time since the race began he was attired in civilian garments, for he now ventured on his own deep into enemy territory, where the sight of a Grewzian uniform would incite attack. The Rhazaulleans would rend him limb from limb if they knew what he was; in light of what he witnessed by dawn's light, he could hardly blame them.
Karsler stood motionless as the village burned, as the soldiers herded their victims to the lakeside, and the slaughter commenced. Instinct bade him intervene; intellect recognized the futility of the impulse. By the time he made it down the hills and across the valley to Slekya, the Grewzian force would have finished its work. In any event the men down below were not subject to his direct command, and he had not the authority to countermand the orders of their own officers.
There was nothing he could do, and he knew it, but did not believe it. There was nothing in all his Promontory training to arm him against the necessity of witnessing atrocity and simply turning his back on it. His awareness of events down in Slekya imposed moral obligation incompatible with his duty as a soldier and a Stornzof, and no remotely satisfactory solution to the dilemma existed.
The sensation of powerlessness was unfamiliar and abhorrent. As he watched the ma.s.s execution taking place below, shame and disgust that was almost a sickness filled him, but he did not avert his eyes before the last of the victims fell. Then he remounted his horse and rode away.
A COUPLE OF SHOTS RANG OUT and Luzelle started, still unused to the sound, although she had heard it repeatedly throughout the day. Then came the thud of running feet, the crash of another volley, the shouting of Grewzian voices-likewise grown familiar, for the soldiers had been hunting Rhazaullean fugitives through the woods for hours, and the hills above Slekya were strewn with bullet-riddled bodies. and Luzelle started, still unused to the sound, although she had heard it repeatedly throughout the day. Then came the thud of running feet, the crash of another volley, the shouting of Grewzian voices-likewise grown familiar, for the soldiers had been hunting Rhazaullean fugitives through the woods for hours, and the hills above Slekya were strewn with bullet-riddled bodies.
”Haven't they had enough yet?” Luzelle hardly knew that she spoke aloud.
”They'll have to give over soon, evening's drawing on,” Girays told her.
”It's been that long?” Faintly surprised, she glanced up at the sky, grey all day long and now darkening to charcoal. ”Think they'll let us go back to the warmstop?”
”Road's still closed.”
”We'll be cold tonight.”
”Others will be colder.”
”I wish we'd gone back to Immeen when we had the chance.”