Changeling (Illustrated) by Roger Zelazny Read Free Book Online Page B

chased after for a time, hurling some final rocks and words. Then they fell behind. He left the village.
    As he swung to the left, climbing about the side of a small hill, he saw a slim figure in a blue blouse and gray skirt, standing by the side of the trail, waving to him. He slowed immediately when he recognized Nora.
    Coming to a stop, be leaned over and opened the door.
    “Get in,” he said.
    She studied the car through narrowed eyes, then shook her head slowly.
    “No,” she said. “I thought you’d come this way, and I came on ahead to warn you—not to go for a ride in the thing.”
    “Warn me?”
    “They’re angry—”
    “I know that.”
    She struck her fist against her palm.
    “Don’t interrupt! Listen! Could you hear what they were saying?”
    “No. I—”
    “I didn’t think so, over all that noise. Well, I could, and I don’t think that they are going to calm down and see things your way. I think that the only reason you’re alive right now is that they couldn’t break into this thing . . . ” Gingerly, she reached out and touched the door. “Don’t go back to the village. You probably ought to leave again—” Her voice broke and she turned away. “You never got in touch,” she managed later. “You said that you would, and you never did.”
    “I—I couldn’t, Nora.”
    “Where were you?”
    “Far away . . . ”
    “Far? As far as Anvil Mountain, or one of the other forbidden places? That’s where you got this thing, isn’t it?”
    He did not reply.
    “Isn’t it?” she repeated.
    “It’s not the way you think,” he answered then. “Yes, I was there, but—”
    “Go away! I don’t want to know you any more! I’ve warned you. If you value your life, leave here again—and this time, don’t come back!”
    “I can convince you you’re wrong—if you’ll listen, if you will let me show you some—”
    “I don’t want to listen and I don’t want to see anything!”
    She turned and ran off through the trees. He would have pursued her, but he feared leaving the car there, should any villagers be following.
    “Come back!” he called.
    But there was no answer.
    Reluctantly, he closed the door and continued on. A puzzled centaur peered after him from the hilltop.
     

 
     
VII .
     
    The synthetic caterpillars crisscrossed the streets of the reviving city, removing trash and rubble. Their superintendent, a short, wide-shouldered mutant with heavy brow-ridges, followed their slow progress, occasionally leaning upon his hooked driving-prod. The skies were sunny today, above the shining spires about which laborers clambered, building. Terraces were spreading under the care of a company of robot attendants. The steady throbbing of the restored factories filled the air as other-styled robots, flying machines, cars and weapons moved down the computerized assembly lines. Far below, a line of passing mutants genuflected as they passed the white-stone monument above the entranceway to the old teaching machine’s quarters, which their leader had caused to be erected there and had designated as a shrine. Giant bird-like forms departed from and returned to flat-roofed buildings, moving into and out of their enormous patrol patterns. The superintendent uttered a cry, swung his goad and smiled. Life had been growing steadily better, ever since the arrival of the suncrowned one, with his power over the Old Things. He hoped that the leader fared well on his latest quest. Later, he would visit the shrine to pray for this, and that they might spread the blessings of warmth at night and regular meals across the land. A virtuous feeling he could now afford possessed him as he swung the goad again.
    *  *  *
    Michael Chain, florid-faced, hair thinning now, sat across from Daniel in the small, quiet restaurant, trying to seem as if he were not studying his reactions. Dan, in turn, uncomfortable in his best suit, poked at his melting dessert and sipped his coffee, trying to seem as if