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.Strands of cold mist blew along the avenues of District 92, and the overhead lampsbecame eerie puffs of luminosity.Few folk were abroad at this time, and as the adit slanted away fromthe city their number dwindled even further, so that Jantiff rode almost alone.The way climbed a long slope; Uncibal, behind and below, became a ribbon of hazy light, streamingfar to the right and far to the left; then the way swung into Outpost Valley and Uncibal was blotted fromsight.Ahead appeared the lights of the Metallurgical Syndicate.The fence came to parallel the man-way, and the fat bolts of energy playing among the strands weremore sinister than ever through the darkness.Mounds of ore, slag and sinter loomed against the sky; a barge discharged ore into an undergroundhopper, to create a clattering roar.Jantiff watched in sudden interest.Presum-ably, after unloading the,ore, the barge would return to the mines, somewhere in Blale, at the southern fringe of the Weirdlands.Here was transportation quick and cheap, if he could avail himself of it.Jantiff moved to the side of theway and stepped off.The barge slid off and stationed itself under another hopper, again came a clatter asmaterial poured into the barge.Jantiff appraised the situation.The fence no longer barred the way, butbetween himself and the barge interposed an area illuminated by overhead lamps; he would surely beseen if he approached from the direction of the man-way.Jantiff returned to the man-way and rode a hundred yards past the lighted area.Alighting once more,he set off across the dark field, which was dank with seepage from the slag piles; the mud released anacrid reek as Jantiff trudged through.Cursing under his breath, he approached the shadow side of themound, where the ground became somewhat fir-mer.Cautiously Jantiff moved to where he could viewthe field: just in time to see the barge lift and sweep away through the night.Jantiff looked forlornly after the receding side-lights: there went his transportation south.He hunchedhis shoulders against the chill.Standing in the shadows he felt more alone than ever before in his life: asisolated and remote as if he were already dead, or floating alone in the void.He stirred himself.No point standing stupidly in the cold, though indeed he could see small scope foranything better.Lights slid across the sky: another barge! It settled upon the discharge hopper, the operator leaningfrom his cab to perceive signals ,from the hopper attendant.The compartments tilted; out poured the ore with a rush and a rattle.Jantiff poised himself at theready.The barge slid to a hopper near the slag pile; slag roared down the chute into the barge.Jantiffbounded at best speed across the intervening area He reached the barge and climbed upon a horizontalflange at the base of the cargo bins.Grasping for a secure handhold, he found only vertical flanges; hewould lose his grip as soon as the barge lurched to a cross gust.Jantiff jumped, caught the upper lip ofthe ore compartment; kicking and straining he hauled himself up, slid over the lip into the compartment,which just at this moment received its charge from the hopper above.Jantiff danced and trod this wayand that, and climbed sprawling across the slag and so managed to avoid burial.In the cab the operatorturned his head; Jantiff threw himself flat.Had be been seen?.Evi-dently not.The loaded barge lurchedaloft and slid away through the darkness.Jantiff heaved a great shuddering sigh.Arrabus lay behind him.The barge flew a mile or two, then slowed and seemed to drift.Jantiff lifted his head in perplexity.What went on? A lamp on top of the control cab illuminated the cargo area; the operator stepped fromhis cab and walked astern along the central catwalk.He called harshly to Jantiff. Well, then, fellow.What s your game?Jantiff crawled across the slag until, gaining his feet, he was able to look up at the menacing figure.Hedid not like what he saw.The operator was a notably ugly man.His face, round and pale, rested directlyupon a great tun of a torso; his eyes were set far apart, almost riding the cheekbones.The nose, no morethan a button of gristle, seemed vastly inade-quate for the ventilation of so imposing a body.The operatorrepeated himself, in a voice as harsh as before:  Well then: what s the game: Haven t you read thenotices? We re sharp for restless custodees. I m no custodee, cried Jantiff. I m trying to leave Unci-bal; I only want to ride across Weirdlandinto Blale.The operator looked down in sardonic disbelief. What are you seeking in Male? You ll find no freewump for certain; everyone earns his keep. I m not Arrabin, Jantiff explained eagerly. I m not even an immigrant; I m a visitor from Zeck.Ithought I wanted to visit Wyst, but now I m anxious only to leave. Well, I can believe you re no custodee; you d know better than to ride the ore-barge.Can youguess how you might have fared, had I not taken pity on you? No, not exactly, mumbled Jantiff. I intended no harm.The operator spoke in a lordly tone. First, to clear Daf-fledaw Mountains, I raise to three miles,where the air is chill and the clouds are shreds of floating ice.So then, you freeze rigid and die.No, no,don t argue, I ve seen it happen.Next.Where do you think I take this slag? To be set into a tiara for thecontractor s lady? No indeed.I float over Lake Nernan, where Contractor Shubart builds his ramp.Iturn up the compartments; out pours the slag, and your frozen corpse as well, to fall a mile into the blackwater.And what do you think of that? I was not aware of such things, said Jantiff mournfully. Had I known, I would certainly havechosen some other transportation [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]