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bike's light cluster and instrument binnacle was a solid, bulky mass covered
with a thin aerodynamic fairing. Two stubby cylinders protruded from the
matt-silver of the main casing, ending in a pair of darkly bulbous lenses. A
couple of oddly impractical stalks protruded from the casing, a strap with no
apparent purpose lay draped across the gas tank, and the two main instrument
dials at the rear of the binnacle looked tacked-on.
Sharrow knelt down by the tipped front wheel, patting the roughened silver
surface over the two dark lenses.
Miz shrugged. Dloan continued to look puzzled. Zefla took another swig from
the bottle. Then her expression changed suddenly from incomprehension to
amazement. She sputtered wine and pointed. `Is that the Lazy Gu-?' She
coughed, then patted her chest.
`
What
?' Miz said loudly, then looked around guiltily.
Dloan looked puzzled for a moment longer, then smiled and nodded slowly.
Sharrow shook her head, rising and inspecting the point where the two
instrument dials disappeared into holes cut in the binnacle. `No,' she said,
inserting a fingernail into the gap and sliding it back and forth. `The real
thing wouldn't let you cut these holes in it.' She stepped back and folded her
arms, looking the bike up and down. `But somebody's gone to some trouble to
make it look like one.'
The others crowded round the bike.
Miz peered closely at the instruments. `Maybe you get on, fire it up and it
takes you to where the real thing's stashed,' he said.
`Like a pair of magic shoes in a fairy tale,' Zefla nodded.
`Maybe,' Sharrow said.
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Dloan leant closer, inspecting the instruments. He frowned, then tapped both
main read-outs. They were old-
fashioned electromechanical dials with slim, plastic needles pointing to
numbers printed round the edges of the instrument faces.
'Hmm,' Dloan said, gripping the dials and shaking them; they moved in the
binnacle.
`What?' Zefla said:
`According to these instruments,' Dloan said, straightening, `this thing's
doing fifty klicks an hour and it's revving at sixty a second.'
`Never trust a Lazy Gun,' Zefla muttered.
`Really?' Sharrow said. `Let's see . . .' She put a hand on each of the two
dials and pulled.
`Hey, careful --' Zefla said, stepping back.
The dials clicked out of the binnacle, coming cleanly away. There were no
wires trailing from them. Sharrow turned them over; the instruments had no
obvious connections anywhere on their stainless steel surface.
`One needle's moving,' Dloan said quietly.
Sharrow held the instruments in front of her. The speedometer needle swung a
little, then steadied. The tachometer needle stayed steady. Dloan reached out,
altered the orientation of the instrument cluster so that it was lying flat,
then while Sharrow still held them turned the dials around ninety degrees and
back. The speedometer needle shifted round the dial, but kept pointing in the
same direction, towards one wall of the warehouse.
Sharrow nodded in the direction the needle was indicating. `Then let's walk
that way, shall we?'
They bumped into Feril while they were walking down the aisle, intent on the
two instruments. Sharrow smiled awkwardly and turned the dials' faces to her
chest. The android just stood there.
`May I help?' it said.
Sharrow smiled. `May we borrow your car for a while?'
`The vehicle is a little temperamental,' Feril told them, sounding apologetic.
`Might I suggest I drive you wherever you wish to go?'
Sharrow and the others exchanged looks. Feril looked up at the ceiling and
said, `I know it wouldn't even cross your mind, but just supposing you were
thinking of taking something from the trove, it would be wise not to let the
caretaker observe you doing so. I myself am quite neutral in the matter.'
Sharrow opened her jacket and concealed the bulky dials inside as best she
could. `We'll accept your offer of the lift, Feril, thank you.'
`My pleasure,' the android said.
Grey waves dashed themselves against black boulders; spray flew up, sunset
lit, to blow across the tumble of stones in quick veils of grey-pink mist,
dropping and whirling into the crannies between the rocks.
The wind blew into her face, strong and cool and damp. The sunset was a wide
stain of red at the ocean's edge.
She turned and looked up the grassy slope to the road, where the car sat
hissing quietly. Strands of steam leaked from beneath the vehicle and were
torn away on the curling wind. There was a light on in the automobile's rear
compartment, and through the open door she could see Miz and Dloan peering at
a screen they'd unfurled over the floor of the car.
Feril and Zefla sat on a couple of boulders at the side of the road about
fifty metres away, looking out to sea, talking.
Miz got out of the car and walked down to her. He stood by her side, making a
show of breathing in the brine-
laced air.
`Well?' Sharrow asked him.
`I'll tell you if you'll tell me how the book led to the tomb,' Miz said,
smiling faintly.
Sharrow shrugged. `The message in the casing,' she said.
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Miz frowned for a moment. `What? "Things Will Change"?'
Sharrow nodded. `That's the inscription on Gorko's tomb.'
`But the tomb's only . . . what?' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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