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CHAPTER FOUR
The rain, combined with a dismal heat mist, made the site more desolate than
she remembered it. She d spotted a stand of fruit trees on the final leg of
her journey and, hovering the sled, had picked the upper branches free of
succulent ripe yellow globes. Consequently she felt less weary when she glided
the sled to land on the square of the old secondary camp. And it did look
ancient.
The original dome, which would have been comfortable for two people, was
missing but the space it had occupied was an ovoid barren of all growth in the
center of an octagon of long stone buildings. Tiny plants now grew in cavities
where wind blown dirt had accumulated. The buildings had been so well built
that Varian wondered why the mutineers had moved. Of course, just then the
rain kept the insects away, but there would be a superb panorama of the
surrounding plains, not that she supposed the heavyworlders had indulged
themselves that way. Most of the visible buttes supported crowns of trees,
heavily vined, but the area adjacent to the octagon had been cleared several
meters on all sides and covered with a concrete which, to be sure, was now
cracking as the more tenacious vines reclaimed their customary dominion.
Beyond that apron was lush growth, but the buildings she couldn t call them
homes or houses because of their forbidding aspect claimed her attention
first.
As Varian approached the nearest, she saw that the windows had been glazed yet
when she rubbed away grime, she could barely see through the dense and
irregular glass. When her eyes had compensated for the gloom, she could see
the interior had been stripped of everything but the stone shelving set into
the corners of each room. The only door was made of stout wooden panels,
coated with some glossy substance which obviously protected the wood against
the depredations of Ireta s insect life. Set above the handle of the locked
door were four metal tumblers, coded to some pattern, for the handle would not
move at her touch although the tumblers rolled easily under her thumb. A
cursory examination of the other seven buildings told her they were identical;
four rooms, two on either side of an entry hall. The windows were too narrow
for any but a young child to climb in or out of. With such stoutly built
dwellings, why had they moved? There was plenty of room for expansion on the
bluff top.
She went beyond the octagon and saw out buildings, two with chimneys well
blackened even after decades of scouring rain. One proved to be a forge and
marks on the concrete behind it indicated the complete removal of another
installation, as well as the squat thick form of a kiln. What power would
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they have used for the forge? Water? Up here? No, but there was no shortage of
wind! She had become so accustomed to the buffeting of the almost incessant
breezes that blew from moderate to gale force through the course of every
Iretan day, that she d almost missed the most obvious and easiest power
source.
Paskutti had not been idly bragging when he d said that he and his band could
survive nicely on Ireta. If
Aygar was to be believed, and the barbed steel tip of his lance gave fair
evidence of metal craftsmanship, they didn t need the Federated Sentient
Planets. Maybe not the FSP, thought Varian, kicking at the mud, but they d
need a larger gene pool or their community risked dangerous inbreeding that
could wipe out all they had achieved.
She should reserve her sympathy for her own problem Kai s restoration and she
wasn t getting any help on the bleak butte. But she couldn t resist the urge
to peer into the buildings set apart from the living quarters. They might
provide her with a measure of information on the quality of life the mutineers
had established for themselves. With metal-working, glass manufacture,
windpower, pottery, they d achieved a commendable basic standard. One long
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building, down slope and nearer the luxuriant growth, attracted her interest
since it was so obviously set apart from the industrial sites. The door faced
the brush and
Varian paused, puzzled. Despite the wild profusion of lush vegetation,
something about the area struck her as odd. Then she realized that the
fruiting trees were placed at regular intervals, and each row was comprised of
different types. Moving closer, she saw metal stakes holding up another form
of vine from which thick pods hung: a series of thorny bushes bore huge red
berries, then another stand of trees and beyond the trees, against a low
retaining wall were smaller plants, weed vines choking them and, on the wall,
tucked into niches as if by design, a curious feathery purple moss.
Purple was not her favorite shade after the mold, Varian realized, even as she
had to admit that she was looking at an overgrown garden. She turned then to
the long hut and observed what she had failed to notice at first it had no
windows. A storehouse for the garden s produce? Yes, for now that she was
closer, she could see the carved panels in the door.
Vines, trees, and plants were each so carefully delineated on that door that
even someone with little botanical knowledge would be able to identify the
specimens once the carvings had been memorized.
What had Aygar said? They had learned a long time ago to balance their diet.
Varian recognized the carotene-rich grass from the Rift valley which the giffs
as well as Tyrannosaurus rex had needed. Turning constantly to check against
the door s carvings, Varian found each of the plants growing in rows in the
neglected garden. Divisti, the expedition s botanist, must have been
responsible for that catalog of Ireta s edible flora.
Varian pushed her way through the overgrowth, gathering fruits which she
recognized, until she reached the vine with pods. One split with ripe
readiness as she touched it, exposing large pale green beans. The bean had a
wholesome smell. She bit, taking the smallest possible morsel to roll about in
her mouth, tensing to spit out an unwelcome flavor. But the taste was mealy,
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