"Andre Norton - Astra 02 - Star Born [4.1]" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

To the eye Sssuri was still listening to that which his friend could
not hear.
“They come from afar. They are on the move to find new hunting
grounds.”
Dalgard sat up. To each and every scout from Homeport, something
that unusual was a warning, a signal to alert mind and body.
The runners in the night—that furred monkey race of hunters who
braved the moonless dark of Astra when most of the higher fauna were asleep—were
very distantly related to Sssuri’s species, though the gap between them was that
between highly civilized man and the jungle ape. The runners were harmless and
shy, but they were noted also for clinging stubbornly to one particular district
generation after generation. To find such a clan on the move into new territory
was to be fronted with a puzzle it might be well to investigate.
“A snake-devil—” he suggested tentatively, forming a mind picture of
the vicious reptilian danger which the colonists tried to kill on sight whenever
and wherever encountered. His hand went to the knife at his belt. One met with
weapons only that hissing hatred motivated by a brainless ferocity which did not
know fear.
But Sssuri did not accept that explanation. He was sitting up facing
inland where the thread of valley met the cliff wall. And seeing his absorption,
Dalgard asked no distracting questions.
“No, no snake-devil—” after long moments came the answer. He got to
his feet, shuffling through the sand in the curious little half dance which
betrayed his agitation more strongly than his thoughts had done.
“The hoppers have no news,” Dalgard said.
Sssuri gestured impatiently with one out flung hand. “Do the hoppers
wander far from their own nest mounds? Somewhere there—” he pointed to the left
and north “there is trouble, bad trouble. Tonight we shall speak with the
runners and discover what it may be.”
Dalgard glanced about the camp with regret. But he made no protest
as he reached for his bow and stripped off its protective casing. With the
quiver of heavy-duty arrows slung across his shoulder he was ready to go,
following Sssuri inland. The easy valley path ended less than a quarter of a
mile from the sea, and they were fronted by a wall of rock with no other option
than to climb. But the weltering sun made plain every possible hand and foot
hold on its surface.
When they stood at last on the heights and looked ahead, it was
across a broken stretch of bare rock with the green of vegetation beckoning from
at least a mile beyond. Sssuri hesitated for only a moment or two, his round,
almost featureless head turning slowly, until he fixed on a northeasterly
course—striking out unerringly as if he could already sight the goal. Dalgard
fell in behind, looking over the country with a wary eye. This was just the type
of land to harbor flying dragons. And while those pests were small, their
lightning-swift attack from above made them foes not to be disregarded. But all
the flying things he saw were two moth birds of delicate hues engaging far over
the sun-baked rock in one of their graceful winged dances.
They crossed the heights and came to the inland slope, a drop toward
the central interior plains of the continent. As they plowed through the high
grasses Dalgard knew they were under observation. Hoppers watched them. And once
through a break in a line of trees he saw a small herd of duocorns race into the