uplift4.brightnessreef-第17节

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bbles　showed　that　river　creatures；　feeding　on　the　scraps；　weren't　so　finicky。　Sara　didn't　mind　the　tangy　taste；　though　most　Earthlings　wound　up　defecating　bright　colors　after　too　many　days　of　shipboard　fare。
　　When　Prity　later　brought　a　pair　of　blankets；　Sara　chose　the　plushest　to　tuck　over　the　Stranger；　sleeping　near　the　main　hold　with　its　neatly　stacked　crates　of　dross。　His　brow　bore　a　sheen　of　perspiration；　which　she　wiped　with　a　dry　cloth。　Since　early　yesterday；　he　had　shown　none　of　the　lucidity　so　briefly　displayed　when　the　ill…omened　bolide　split　the　sky。
　　Sara　had　misgivings　about　hauling　the　wounded　man　on　a　hurried；　stressful　trek。　Still；　there　was　a　good　clinic　in　Tarek　Town。　And　this　way　she　might　keep　an　eye　on　him　while　performing　her　other　duty…one　rudely　dropped　in　her　lap　last　night；　after　that　frenzied　conclave　in　the　Meeting　Tree。
　　Pzora　stood　nearby；　a　dark　tower；　dormant　but　ever…vigilant　over　the　patient's　condition。　The　pharmacist　vented　steamy　puffs　from　the　specialized　ring　that　routinely　performed　ad　hoc　chemistry　beyond　the　understanding　of　Jijo's　best　scholars　or　even　the　traeki　themselves。
　　Wrapping　her　shoulders　in　another　soft　g'Kek…spun　blanket；　Sara　turned　and　watched　her　fellow　passengers。
　　Jomah；　the　young　son　of　Henrik；　the　exploser；　lay　curled　nearby；　snoring　softly　after　the　excitement　of　leaving　home　for　the　first　time。　Closer　to　the　mast　sat　Jop；　the　bristle…cheeked　delegate　of　Dolo's　farmers　and　crofters；　peering　in　the　half…light　at　a　leather…bound　copy　of　some　Scroll。　Over　by　the　starboard　rail；　Ulgor；　the　urrish　tinker　who　had　spoken　at　the　village　meeting；　knelt　facing　a　qheuenish　woodcarver　named　Blade；　one　of　many　sons　of　the　matriarch；　Log　Biter。　Blade　had　lived　for　years　among　the　sophisticated　Gray　Qheuens　of　Tarek　Town；　so　his　choice　as　representative　of　Dolo　Hive　seemed　natural。
　　From　a　moss…lined　pouch；　Ulgor　drew　a　quivering　rewq　symbiont；　of　the　type　suited　for　lean　urrish　heads。　The　trembling　membrane　crawled　over　each　of　her　triple　eyes；　creating　the　Mask…That…Reveals。　Meanwhile；　Blade's　rewq　wrapped　itself　around　the　seeing…strip　bisecting　his　melonlike　cupola。　The　qheuen's　legs　retracted；　leaving　only　the　armored　claws　exposed。
　　The　pair　conversed　in　a　bastard　dialect　of　Galactic　Two；　at　best　a　difficult　tongue　for　humans。　Moreover；　the　breeze　carried　off　the　treble　whistle…tones；　leaving　just　the　lower　track　of　syncopated　clicks。　Perhaps　for　those　reasons　the　two　travelers　seemed　unconcerned　anyone　might　listen。
　　Maybe；　as　often　happened；　they　underrated　the　reach　of　human　hearing。
　　Or　else　they're　counting　on　something　called　mon　courtesy；　she　thought　ironically。　Lately　Sara　had　bee　quite　an　eavesdropper；　an　unlikely　habit　for　a　normally　shy；　private　young　woman。　Her　recent　fascination　with　language　was　the　cause。　This　time　though；　fatigue　overcame　curiosity。
　　Leave　them　alone。　You'll　have　plenty　of　chances　to　study　dialects　in　Tarek　Town。
　　Sara　took　her　blanket　over　to　a　spot　between　two　crates　marked　with　Nelo's　seal；　exuding　the　homey　scents　of　Dolo's　paper　mill。　There　had　been　little　time　for　rest　since　that　frenetic　town　meeting。　Only　a　few　miduras　after　adjournment；　the　village　elders　had　sent　a　herald　to　wake　Sara　with　this　assignment…to　lead　a　delegation　downriver　in　search　of　answers　and　guidance。　She　was　chosen　both　as　one　with　intimate　knowledge　of　Biblos　and　also　to　represent　the　Dolo　craft　workers…as　Jop　would　speak　for　the　farmers；　and　Blade　for　the　upriver　qheuens。　Other　envoys　included　Ulgor；　Pzora；　and　Fakoon；　a　g'Kek　scriven…dancer。　Since　each　was　already　billeted　aboard　the　Hauph…woa；　with　business　in　Tarek　Town；　they　could　hardly　refuse。　Together　with　the　ship's　captain；　that　made　at　least　one　representative　from　all　Six　exile　races。　A　good　omen；　the　elders　hoped。
　　Sara　still　wondered　about　Jomah。　Why　would　Henrik　dispatch　the　boy　on　a　trip　that　promised　danger；　even　in　quiet　times？
　　〃He　will　know　what　to　do；〃　the　taciturn　exploser　had　said；　putting　his　son　in　Sara's　nominal　care。　〃Once　you　reach　Tarek　Town。〃
　　If　only　I　could　say　as　much　for　myself；　Sara　worried。　It　had　been　impossible　to　turn　down　this　assignment；　much　as　she　wanted　to。
　　It's　been　a　year　since　Joshu　died…since　shame　and　grief　made　a　hermit　of　you。　Besides；　who　is　going　to　care　that　you　made　a　fool　of　yourself　over　a　man　who　could　never　be　yours？　That　all　seems　a　small　matter；　now　that　the　world　we　know　is　ing　to　an　end。
　　Alone　in　the　dark；　Sara　worried。
　　Are　Dwer　and　Lark　safe？　Or　has　something　dreadful　already　happened　at　Gathering？
　　She　felt　Prity　curl　up　alongside　in　her　own　blanket；　sharing　warmth。　The　hoonish　helmsman　rumbled　a　crooning　melody；　with　no　words　in　any　language　Sara　knew；　yet　conveying　a　sense　of　muzzy　serenity；　endlessly　forbearing。
　　Things　work　out；　the　hoonish　umble　seemed　to　say。
　　Sleep　finally　climbed　out　of　her　body's　fatigue　to　claim　Sara　as　she　thought…
　　I。。。　sure。。。　hope。。。　so。
　　Later；　in　the　middle　of　the　night；　a　dream　yanked　her　bolt　upright；　clutching　the　blanket　close。　Her　eyes　stared　over　the　peaceful　river；　lit　by　two　moons；　but　Sara's　heart　pounded　as　she　quailed　from　an　awful　nightmare　image。
　　Flames。
　　Moonlight　flickered　on　the　water；　and　to　her　eyes　it　became　fire；　licking　the　Biblos　roof…of…stone；　blackening　it　with　the　heat　and　soot　of　half　a　million　burning　books。
　　
　　The　Stranger
　　Unconscious；　he　is　helpless　to　control　dark　images　roiling　across　the　closed　universe　of　his　mind。　It　is　a　tight　universe…narrow　and　confined…yet　teeming　with　stars　and　confusion。　With　galaxies　and　remorse。　With　nebulae　and　pain。
　　And　water。　Always　water…from　dense　black　ice　fields　all　the　way　to　space…clouds　so　diffuse；　you　might　never　know　they　thronged　with　beings　the　size　of　planets。　Living　things　as　slow　and　thin　as　vapor；　swimming　through　a　near…vacuum　sea。
　　Sometimes　he　thinks　water　will　never　leave　him　alone。　Nor　will　it　let　him　simply　die。
　　He　hears　it　right　now；　water's　insistent　music；　piercing　his　delirium。　This　time　it　es　to　him　as　a　soft　lapping　sound…the　sluicing　of　wooden　boards　through　gentle　liquid；　like　some　vessel　bearing　him　along　from　a　place　he　can't　remember；　toward　another　whose　name　he'll　never　learn。　It　sounds　reassuring；　this　melody；　not　like　the　sucking　clutch　of　that　awful　swamp；　where　he　had　thought　he　was　about　to　drown　at　last…
　　…as　he　so　nearly　drowned　once；　long　ago；　when　the　Old　Ones　forced　him；　screaming；　into　a　crystal　globe　they　then　filled　with　a　fluid　that　dissolved　everything　it　touched。
　　…or　as　he　once　fought　for　breath　on　that　green…green…green　world　whose　thick　air　refused　to　nourish　while　he　stumbled　on　and　on　half…blind　toward　a　fearsome　glimmering　Jophur　tower。
　　…or　the　time　his　body　and　soul　felt　pummeled；　squeezed；　unable　even　to　gasp　as　he　threaded　a　narrow　passage　that　seemed　about　to　strip　him　to　his　spine。。。　before　abruptly　spilling　him　into　a　realm　where　shining　light　stretched　on　and　on　until…
　　His　mind　rebels；　quailing　from　brief；　incoherent　images。　Fevered；　he　has　no　idea　which　of　them　are　remembered；　which　are　exaggerated；　and　which　his　damaged　brain　simply　invented　out　of　the　pitchy　stuff　of　nightmare…
　　…like　a　starship's　vapor　contrail　（water！）　cleaving　a　blue　sky　that　reminded　him　of　home。
　　…or　the　sight　of　beings　like　himself　（more　water！）　living　on　a　world　where　they　clearly　don't　belong。
　　Amid　the　chaos　of　fevered　hallucinations；　another　impression　penetrates。　Somehow　he　knows　that　it　es　from　beyond　his　delusion…from　someplace　real。　It　feels　like　a　touch；　a　stroke　of　softness　on　his　brow。　A　brush；　acpanied　by　murmurs　in　a　voice　that　soothes。　He　can　make　no　sense　of　the　words；　but　still　he　weles　the　sensation；　even　knowing　that　it　should　not　be。　Not　here。　Not　now。
　　It　is　a　fort；　that　touch；　making　him　feel　just　a　little　less　alone。
　　Eventually；　it　even　pushes　back　the　fearsome　images…the　memories　and　dreams…and　in　time　he　slips　from　delirium　into　a　quietude　of　sleep。
　　
　　V。　THE　BOOK　OF　THE　SEA
　　When　Judgment　es；　you　will　be　asked　about　the　dead。
　　What　living　species；　beautiful　and　unique；　exist　no　more　because　you　squatters　chose
　　a　forbidden　place　to　live？
　　And　what　of　your　own　dead？
　　Your　corpses；　cadavers；　and　remains？
　　Your　tools　and　cold…made　things？
　　How　have　you　disposed　of　them？
　　Be　righteous；　sooners　of　Jijo。
　　Show　how　hard　you　tried。
　　Make　small　the　consequences　of　your　crime。
　　＇The　offense　or　living。＇
　　Felonies…and　their　punishment…
　　can　be　made　smaller；　by　the　simple　fact
　　of　doing　less　harm。
　　…The　Scroll　of　Advice
　　　
　　Alvin's　Tale
　　THE　MOUNT　GUENN　TRAM　CLIMBS　A　STEEP　ROUTE　from　Wuphon　Port　all　the　way　up　to　the　workshops　of　Uriel　the　Smith。　The　railway　is　small　and　hard　to　see；　even　when　you're　looking　for　it。　Still；　it's　allowed　by　the　sages　only　because　it's　important　for　getting　Uriel's　forgings　down　to　market。　Also；　it　uses　no　artificial　power。　Water　from　a　hot　spring；　high　up　on　the　mountain；　pours　into　a　tank　aboard　whichever　car　is　waiting　at　the　top　station。　Meanwhile；　the　bottom　car's　tank　is　emptied；　so　it's　much　lighter；　even　with　passengers　aboard。　When　the　b