第97节

trees

and a stone wall.

Cadillac's domestic staff were still ranged along it, with their

children perched on top.

Even though they had been watching the build-up since early morning,

their attention was now riveted on the three planes preparing for

take-off. Over the past months, flying machines had become a familiar

sight but today's events were special because of the importance of the

people involved and the surrounding pomp and ceremony.

No one noticed Steve cross quickly to the dung-heap where he had left

two wooden buckets containing the usual night mix but, as he went to

pick them up, the plump, bossy cook turned to pick up a wandering

bare-assed infant. Recovering from her surprise, she gave him a

suspicious stare. Steve tilted the bucket towards her to reveal its

contents then pretended to empty it.

There was a dramatic roll of drums and Shwaah-ba-ba-BOOOMMM! The sound

of three pairs of launch boosters igniting in quick succession rippled

towards the pavilion. The cook hurriedly lifted the small child on to

the wall and sought a foothold herself to get a better view. A

full-throated roar of approval came from the seated spectators and

watching troops as the Consul-General's flying-horse climbed steeply

into the sky followed by his two escorts.

Steve took a firm grip on both buckets and hurried out of sight.

Entering the bath-house, he stripped off his distinctive brown uniform

and donned a set of borrowed clothes: the sleeveless wrap-over top and

trousers worn by the Mutes who manned the cookhouse and other services

provided for the Tracker workforce. After making sure the load of

ordnance that was packed round his ribs didn't show, Steve pulled a

battered wide-brimmed straw hat down about his ears, collected his

buckets and went down the newly worn path that linked the pavilion to

the workshops behind the Heron Pool compound.

The name, which had only come into use at the beginning of the year

when the project had begun, came from the pond behind the flying

field.

The compound itself had been built several decades before and had

originally been used to house a detachment of horse-soldiers belonging

to the Min-Orota. Years of peace and partial demobilization had left

it empty except for a caretaker and his family, and most of the

original buildings had been dismantled and transported elsewhere.

It had then been rented by the local landowner as a feed and grain

store and as winter quarters for his livestock.

Situated in a quiet rural area, close to the main east-west highway and

bordering on a large stretch of grazing land, the site had appealed to

Min-Orota's advisers and had been promptly repossessed. The

dilapidated lean-to which was still standing in the north-west corner

had been allotted to the Mute slaves, and new wooden units had been

constructed to house the Trackers, their guards and overseers.

Shigamitsu, the Heron Pool commander, his two chief lieutenants and

their families had been billeted in the nearby house of the local

landowner - who had been obliged to find another roof to sleep under.

'Leaseholder' was a more accurate term, and the duration of the

contract depended entirely on the whim of the domain-lord. Like the

robber-barons of old, Min-Orota was the ultimate possessor of every

square inch of land, everything on it and underneath it.

The only drawback to the compound was its size.

Workers and workshops could not both be contained within its walls.

This was why the two long-roofed structures had been erected on either

side of a wide alleyway leading from the arched gate in the rear

wall.

There was a six-foot gap between the southern ends of the workshops and

the peeling back wall of the compound, and it had become part of the

shortcut that Steve and Cadillac used when going to and from work.

The alternative would have meant going through the compound, out of the