Lin Carter - Down to a Sunless Sea by Lin Carter, Ken W. Kelly - Cover
Authors: Lin Carter, Ken W. Kelly - Cover
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them seeing us at it, and realizing what we're going to do."
"Then wherever we make camp, we will be in danger of beasts," said Zuarra.
Brant shrugged impatiently.
"So we'll take turns standing guard!" he growled. "C'mon,
we're wasting time—pack your stuff. Since we're all going to have to ride, we can't load down the lopers. Bring bedding, all the food, and the pressure-still. Leave everything else."
With those curt words, he strode out of the tent to pack his own gear.
Thirty minutes later they were riding across the sands.
The lopers hadn't had much work to do recently, and were fresh and well-rested. Doubling up in the saddle was uncomfortable, but there was no alternative. If one or another of them had to travel on foot, the pace of their flight would be slowed.
Suoli cast a wistful backward glance at the dim lights in the warm tents, and began sobbing breathlessly to herself. Save for her muffled weeping, they rode in silence.
It was Brant's plan to strike out at angles from the cliffwall, and ride some considerable distance into the dustlands. This would make it exceedingly difficult for the watchers on the ridge to spot them, for the moaning winds of Mars had carved the fine, dustlike powder into rolling dunes taller than a grown man.
When they had gone far enough to his liking, they angled directly south and followed the curving line of the now-distant cliffs.
As far as they could tell, the unknown watchers had not discovered their quarry to be in flight. Probably (grinned Brant sourly to himself) they were huddled in uncomfortable slumber on the cold rock far above, envying those in the encampment below, whom they assumed sleeping cozily in the insulated tents.
Well, come morning, they were in for a surprise.
Brant was almost sorry that the watchers had not discovered their plan and begun firing, for it would be a vast relief to know just what the watchers intended. However, the ink-black darkness had concealed their furtive departure from the watchful eyes above and it did not seem likely that their absence would be discovered before morning.
There was one problem which bothered him and made him a trifle uneasy. And that was, quite simply, that in order to leave the encampment they had been forced to switch off the power fence. There was no alternative to this, for the lopers would have suffered from the energy-laden wires when they rode over them as much as would beasts of prey, for whom the energy fence was designed. But if a predator should choose to enter the camp during the night, to rip open the tents in search of food, surely the rumpus would attract the attention of the watchers, and their flight would be known.
Brant shrugged the problem aside. "The hell with it," he grumbled to himself. "You can't take every damn precaution— and maybe our luck will hold."
By this time they had put several miles between them and the abandoned camp, and the lopers were weary of laboring through the talcum-fine dust. So Brant headed in to the shelter of the cliffs, where rock outcroppings and pulverized shale would give the beasts easier footing, and enable them to make better time.
It was his intention to ride all night long, and then, when morning came, to hole up somewhere, seeking shelter in the side of the cliffs, where caves and crevices could easily be found. He just hoped that these wouldn't already be affording shelter to rock dragons or something even bigger, more powerful and more dangerous. But, as he'd just decided, you have to take some risks.
Zuarra was sharing the saddle with him, as she disdained to ride with Agila. For all the danger of their precipitous night ride, and all the various hazards and problems he had on his mind, Brant could not help feeling uncomfortably aware of the proximity of her body to his.
Her hair held a faint trace of perfume—bitter, musky, a dry, spicelike scent that reminded him vaguely of cinnamon.
Her arms were tightly wound about his waist, for she was
"Then wherever we make camp, we will be in danger of beasts," said Zuarra.
Brant shrugged impatiently.
"So we'll take turns standing guard!" he growled. "C'mon,
we're wasting time—pack your stuff. Since we're all going to have to ride, we can't load down the lopers. Bring bedding, all the food, and the pressure-still. Leave everything else."
With those curt words, he strode out of the tent to pack his own gear.
Thirty minutes later they were riding across the sands.
The lopers hadn't had much work to do recently, and were fresh and well-rested. Doubling up in the saddle was uncomfortable, but there was no alternative. If one or another of them had to travel on foot, the pace of their flight would be slowed.
Suoli cast a wistful backward glance at the dim lights in the warm tents, and began sobbing breathlessly to herself. Save for her muffled weeping, they rode in silence.
It was Brant's plan to strike out at angles from the cliffwall, and ride some considerable distance into the dustlands. This would make it exceedingly difficult for the watchers on the ridge to spot them, for the moaning winds of Mars had carved the fine, dustlike powder into rolling dunes taller than a grown man.
When they had gone far enough to his liking, they angled directly south and followed the curving line of the now-distant cliffs.
As far as they could tell, the unknown watchers had not discovered their quarry to be in flight. Probably (grinned Brant sourly to himself) they were huddled in uncomfortable slumber on the cold rock far above, envying those in the encampment below, whom they assumed sleeping cozily in the insulated tents.
Well, come morning, they were in for a surprise.
Brant was almost sorry that the watchers had not discovered their plan and begun firing, for it would be a vast relief to know just what the watchers intended. However, the ink-black darkness had concealed their furtive departure from the watchful eyes above and it did not seem likely that their absence would be discovered before morning.
There was one problem which bothered him and made him a trifle uneasy. And that was, quite simply, that in order to leave the encampment they had been forced to switch off the power fence. There was no alternative to this, for the lopers would have suffered from the energy-laden wires when they rode over them as much as would beasts of prey, for whom the energy fence was designed. But if a predator should choose to enter the camp during the night, to rip open the tents in search of food, surely the rumpus would attract the attention of the watchers, and their flight would be known.
Brant shrugged the problem aside. "The hell with it," he grumbled to himself. "You can't take every damn precaution— and maybe our luck will hold."
By this time they had put several miles between them and the abandoned camp, and the lopers were weary of laboring through the talcum-fine dust. So Brant headed in to the shelter of the cliffs, where rock outcroppings and pulverized shale would give the beasts easier footing, and enable them to make better time.
It was his intention to ride all night long, and then, when morning came, to hole up somewhere, seeking shelter in the side of the cliffs, where caves and crevices could easily be found. He just hoped that these wouldn't already be affording shelter to rock dragons or something even bigger, more powerful and more dangerous. But, as he'd just decided, you have to take some risks.
Zuarra was sharing the saddle with him, as she disdained to ride with Agila. For all the danger of their precipitous night ride, and all the various hazards and problems he had on his mind, Brant could not help feeling uncomfortably aware of the proximity of her body to his.
Her hair held a faint trace of perfume—bitter, musky, a dry, spicelike scent that reminded him vaguely of cinnamon.
Her arms were tightly wound about his waist, for she was
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