第48节

y.

From the overheard snatches of conversation that entered his fudged

brain, he understood that his Mute captors were moving camp under cover

of darkness and lying concealed by day to avoid discovery by the

arrowheads that now regularly crossed the sky.

Once, as he lay under a loose covering of branches, he saw, through a

ragged gap in the leaves, two of the graceful Skyhawks dip and wheel

across the sky; saw the white wingtip panels and recognised them as

coming from The Lady. Steve realised that she must have returned

re-equipped with a new section of wingmen to continue her thrust into

Plainfolk territory. He wondered if Gus White was one of the pair now

above him and whether they were looking for him, or whether they were

just hunting Mute.

He felt a sudden pang of regret at being grounded then consoled himself

with the thought that, against all odds, he was still alive and in one

piece, being fed and cared for. If he could manage to stay alive, if

his body mended, he could begin to plan his escape - always provided

his captors didn't find themselves on the receiving end of another

napalm strike. Despite the fudging effects of the Dream Cap, this

thought was a salutary reminder that he, Brickman, S.R.

was now one of the hunted. His fate was bound up with that of his

captors.

After about a month, Mr Snow stopped feeding Steve threads of Dream

Cap. Steve found he was able to sit up without too much discomfort

from his mending ribs. His left shoulder was still painfully stiffbut

he was able to make limited use of his left arm. His right arm was

still in a sling but the livid, gaping wound had closed.

Mr Snow pronounced himself satisfied with Steve's general progress.

'You should soon be ready to start moving around on that leg. I'll see

if we can knock you up something to walk with."

'You mean a pair of crutches?"

'Yes, crutches,' said Mr Snow. 'We must talk some more.

You must know a whole lot of forgotten words."

'You must know a lot I've never heard of,' replied Steve.

'If you've got time, uhh - maybe we can learn each other's language."

'Maybe,' said Mr Snow, noncommittally. 'A lot of the words I use won't

mean anything to you. You live in a different world; see things in a

different way."

Steve shrugged. 'You could teach me to see things your way."

Mr Snow smiled. 'I doubt it. What, for instance, do you mean by the

word "understanding"?"

'"Understanding"?" Steve reflected for a moment. 'llhh, knowing what

someone means when they give you an order.

Knowing how something works, or what to do if anything goes wrong."

Mr Snow nodded. 'How about "Love"?"

Steve hesitated. 'Is that a Mute word?"

'No, it's from the Old Time. It was a word that was constantly on

people's lips. Not that it changed anything."

Steve shook his head. 'Couldn't have been very important. If it was,

we'd use it in the Federation. What is it - some kind of swearword?"

Mr Snow let out a throaty chuckle. 'I can see you've got a lot to

learn."

Steve grinned. 'Listen - Cadillac hadn't heard of "television sets",

you hadn't come across "crutches", and I didn't know about "love".

Maybe we can make a trade.

Think about it."

Mr Snow's eyes twinkled. 'I will." He patted Steve on the shoulder

and ducked out of the hut.