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The Planet Derius
—Grand Vizier Horga Entube,
The road to Feda was long and hard. Especially during the winter. Having emerged victorious from the confrontation with the bandits on the west side of the bridge, Rebo, Norr, Hoggles, and Phan crossed the span ready to do battle again. Fortunately that wasn’t necessary since the holy men assigned to the eastern approach had either been chased away or killed. So the fi?rst night was spent there, within the relative comfort of two huts, while the snow continued to fall beyond the stone walls.
The storm had passed by the time a dimly seen sun rose in the east, but it was bitterly cold, and the angens complained loudly as they struggled to pull the heavily loaded cart up onto the road. Then, with Rebo, Norr, and Phan breaking trail for the animals, the huge disk-shaped wheels cut deep grooves into the virgin snow.
There was a long way to go, but Rebo managed to put that out of his mind, as his mount carried him up through low-lying hills, through a stand of bristle trees, and onto the plain beyond. It was slow work, but the runner had learned to accept such things over the years, and fell into a plodding reverie that lasted until the pale yellow sun hung high in the sky. Eventually, the group paused for what Hoggles referred to as “a brew-up” in the lee of the cart. The hot caf not only tasted good but served to wash down the fry cakes that Norr made up each morning. They consisted of cooked cereal, dried fruit, and nuts. The cakes tasted better hot, but none of them wanted to go to the trouble of making a fi?re, so the rations were consumed cold. The sensitive noticed that Hoggles consumed six of them, Rebo ate two, and Phan barely nibbled at hers. Once their stomachs were full, it was time to rotate the animals so that the team that had been harnessed to the cart had a chance to recuperate. As soon as that chore was complete, Hoggles whistled through his teeth, the single axle squealed, and the angens issued a series of throaty grunts as they made their way forward.
There wasn’t much traffi?c on the road, although tracks were visible from time to time, especially as they entered or left one of the tiny farming villages that crouched between protective hills. Most houses were low one- story affairs that were made of rammed earth and could withstand even the worst storms. Smoke dribbled from their chimneys, and the occasional mongrel gave chase as the group plodded past, but people were rarely seen. It was a rare stranger that brought something good to the farmers’ footsteps—so they had learned to be wary.
There were other sightings, too, some of which harkened back to ancient times, when gigantic machines rode gleaming rails, electric power jumped pylon to pylon, and powerful rivers were held captive behind canyon-spanning dams. Such artifacts weren’t operational of course, but often served as media for semiliterate antitechnic diatribes, a fact that struck Norr as ominous. Especially given the true nature of the coat she wore beneath the long poncho- style cloak. But most of the scenery was simply monotonous. The road was an endless ribbon of crusty snow, the wind moaned like a lost soul, and time seemed to crawl by. Eventually, after what seemed like an eon but was only about twelve hours of riding, the foursome began to look for a place to spend the night. An inn would have been nice, but the only one they’d seen was two hours back, which left the travelers with no choice but to take advantage of whatever shelter they could fi?nd. In this case it was the ruins of what had once been a farm. What remained of the tumbledown house provided protection for the cart and animals—which left the humans to take up residence in the stone silo that stood next to the main structure. The presence of a rudimentary fi?re pit located at the center of the circular space suggested that the structure had been used for that purpose before. And, when Rebo volunteered to gather fi?rewood, Norr offered to accompany him. Phan, who was occupied unpacking the pots and pans, watched from the corner of her eye.
A frigid breeze sought to fi?nd its way in through gaps in their clothing as the twosome emerged from cover. The half-frozen snow crunched under their boots as they circled the silo and followed a half-seen path down into an ancient orchard where fruit trees stood in patient rows, as if still waiting for the people who planted them to return. Some were dead, and their brittle branches made what sounded like pistol shots as Rebo bent them to the breaking point and was showered with ice crystals. Once a knee-high pile of wood had been accumulated, the runner and the sensitive stood side by side as they worked to reduce the long roughbarked limbs into more manageable lengths. Norr was the fi?rst to speak. “Jak . . .”
“Yeah?”
“What do you think of Phan?”
Rebo shrugged noncommittally. “The woman can fi?ght . . . You’ve got to grant her that.”
“And I do,” the variant replied, as she broke a branch over her knee.
The runner gave Norr a sidelong glance. “So? What’s the problem?”
The sensitive paused. “I can’t prove it, but I think she’s lying.”
Rebo’s eyebrows rose. “Lying? About what?”
“I don’t know,” the variant confessed. “But the feeling is there.”
The runner nodded. “I trust your instincts, Lonni. You know that. . . . But you aren’t infallible.”
The conversation was headed where Norr had feared that it might go, and her chin trembled slightly. “And you believe this is one of those times?”
“I don’t know,” Rebo answered carefully. “But it’s possible. . . . First, why would Phan lie? What could she gain?
But let’s say she is lying. . . . Chances are that the lies have nothing to do with us. Don’t forget that we lie constantly and make no apologies for doing so.”
Rebo’s explanation was so reasonable, so benign, that Norr felt silly. She forced a smile. “Don’t let this go to your head, but there are times when you’re right.”
“Right about what?” The voice came from behind them, and both whirled, only to fi?nd Phan standing a few feet away.
Somehow, by a means not apparent, the other runner had been able to approach them without making a sound. But if the sensitive thought that was strange, it seemed as if Rebo didn’t, because the runner smiled. “Another pair of arms!
