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at a quick stumble, as if shoved, came Anacho and
Traz. Chains encircled their necks; behind, jerking the loose ends, ran
Hisziu. Two Dirdirman
Elites followed. They shackled the chains to the back of the car. The
Immaculate spoke a few sibilant words to Anacho and indicated a shelf running
across the rear of the car. Without looking back, he stepped into the car,
where the two Elites already sat. Anacho muttered, "Climb aboard, otherwise
we'll be dragged."
The three crawled up on the rear shelf, clutched the rings to which their neck
chains were shackled. In such undignified fashion they departed Woudiver's
residence. Woudiver's black saloon trundled fifty yards behind, with
Woudiver's huge bulk crouched over the steering apparatus.
"He wants recognition," said Anacho. "He has assisted at an important hunt; he
wants a share of the status."
"I made the mistake," said Reith in a thick voice, "of dealing with Woudiver
as if he were a man. If I had treated him as an animal we might be better
off."
"We could hardly be worse."
"Where are we going?"
"To the Glass Box; where else?"
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"We are to have no hearing, no opportunity to speak for ourselves?"
"Naturally not," said Anacho curtly. "You are sub-men. I am a renegade."
The white car veered into a plaza and halted. The Dirdirmen alighted and stood
stiffly apart, watching the sky. A plump, middle-aged man in a rich dark brown
suit came forward: a person of status and evident vanity, with his hair
elaborately curled and jeweled. He addressed the
Dirdirmen in an easy manner; they replied after a moment's meaningful silence.
"That is Erlius, Administrator of Sivishe," grunted Anacho. "He wants to be in
at the kill too.
It seems that we are important game."
Attracted by the activity, the folk of Sivishe began to gather around the
white car. They formed a wide respectful circle, eyeing the captives with
macabre speculation, crouching back whenever the glance of a Dirdirman drifted
in their direction.
Woudiver remained in his car, at a distance of fifty yards or so, apparently
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arranging his thoughts. At last he alighted and seemed to concern himself with
the matter indited on a fold of paper. Erlius, noticing, quickly turned his
back.
"Look at the two of them," growled Anacho. "Each hates the other: Woudiver
ridicules Erlius for lacking Dirdirman blood; Erlius would like to see
Woudiver in the Glass Box."
"So would I," said Reith. "Speaking of the Glass Box, why are we waiting?"
"For the leaders of the tsaugsh. You will see the Glass Box soon enough."
Reith fretfully wrenched at the chain. The Dirdirmen turned him glances of
admonition.
"Ridiculous," muttered Reith. "There must be something we can do. What of the
Dirdir traditions?
What if I cried h'sai h'sai, h'sai, or whatever the call for arbitration?"
"The call is dr'ssa dr'ssa, dr'ssa!"
"What would happen if I called for arbitration?"
"You would be no better than before. The arbitrator would find you guilty and,
as before: the
Glass Box."
"And if I challenged the arbitration?"
"You'd be forced to fight, and killed all the sooner."
"And no one can be taken unless he is accused?"
"In theory," said Anacho curtly, "that is the custom. Who do you plan to
challenge? Woudiver?
It will do no good. He has not accused you, but only cooperated with the
hunt."
"We will see."
Traz pointed into the sky. "Here come the Dirdir."
Anacho studied the descending sky-car. "The Thisz crest. If the Thisz are
involved, we can expect brisk treatment indeed. They may even issue a
proscription, that none but Thisz can hunt us."
Traz strained against the chain shackle without avail. He gave a hiss of
frustration and turned to watch the descending sky-car. The grayhooded crowd
drew back from underneath; the sky-car landed not fifty feet from the white [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]