The Iron Breed by Andre Norton Read Free Book Online Page A

but rather had been placed so for some purpose. By whom—for what?
    He reached the top of the ridge. From here he would mark his trail and—But, even as he raised the sharpened end of his staff to scrape across a tree trunk, he looked down slope—and what he saw held him quiet in sheer amazement.
    There were . . . what? Jony had no name for those towering things beyond. For one startled moment a thrill of fear ran through him, the dim memory of the ship of the Big Ones. But a second later he knew that what he saw was not the Big Ones, standing silently as a part of the land on which they were based. Yet neither were they piles of rock raised in pinnacles by some chance. The towering fingers of stone were too perfect, too patterned in their arrangement. No, someone—something—had put rocks to use and built, one atop another, straight-edged mounds and heights.
    To the edge of that building ran the river of stone, straight and even, only a little covered by the creeping earth in shallow drifts. It was plain, Jony decided, that this was truly the source of that river. So that, too, must have been made. But how—and again why?
    He kept under cover, using each bit of brush, each stand of trees, as he advanced. At the same time he alerted that other sense of his, probing, seeking for some trace of thought—thought which was akin to that of the Big Ones. For only some people with the same powers and needs as his ancient enemies would or could devise what lay ahead. It was not in the nature of the People to work so with stone.
    But all his mind-search brought not the least suggestion of such life. He could detect only those faint sources which were always about: the native insects, a flying tiling. Not even the in-and-out wavering pattern of the People, or the cold menace of smaa, could he pick up. No, there was no life in the pile ahead. Jony began to be certain of that. So he moved on more confidently with greater excitement and an awakened curiosity he would have to satisfy.

FOUR
    Boldly at last, Jony stepped out on the stone river, to walk confidently toward those piles ahead. They varied in size, some merely his height plus that of his staff, if he held it straight upright. However, there were others so tall he had to tilt back his head to see where their tips touched the sky. Now the stone river led him on between the outermost piles.
    Jony hesitated. He wanted so much to explore. Yet he was still cautious. Once more he quested intently for any emanation ahead signaling danger. Did the People know of this place? Trush's odd reaction when they had first come upon the stone river remained vivid in Jony's memory. He had not warned Jony off; he had simply pointedly ignored the strange find. Why?
    There were many holes in the stone heaps ahead, some small, some large. Again each was regular, as if it had been formed for a purpose, not just because some stone fell out of place during the course of time. Holding his staff at ready, as if he crept up on a smaa's hunting territory, Jony advanced step by wary step, his glance shooting ever from side to side, his extra sense at full alert.
    Those larger holes were on the level where he walked now. They reminded him a little of the entrances to caves, but were still too regular and repeated in pattern to be like those dens where the People sheltered during the time of cold. On impulse Jony entered the nearest, peering at what lay on the inner side of that opening.
    A limited amount of light came from the other, smaller holes; enough to see an open space, more door holes. Jony's sense picked up a feeling of emptiness. He grew greatly daring, went farther. Unidentifiable masses lay on the floor. He poked at one gingerly with the sharp end of his staff. The whole mound collapsed in an out-puffing of dust.
    Jony sneezed, retreated quickly. He did not care for the faintly sourish odor, unlike any he had sniffed before. But his curiosity still held. Those much larger heaps farther along