uplift4.brightnessreef-第3章

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I　was　going　to　suggest　how　we　can　find　some　engravings　no　one's　ever　seen。　At　least　none　of　us　exile　Sixers。〃
　　〃How　could　that　be？〃　My　throat　sac　must　have　fluttered　in　confusion；　making　burbly　sounds。　〃Your　people　came　to　Jijo　two　thousand　years　ago。　Mine　almost　as　long。　Even　humans　have　been　here　a　few　hundred。　Every　inch　of　the　Slope　is　explored；　and　each　Buyur　site　poked　into；　scores　of　times！〃
　　Huck　stretched　all　four　eyes　toward　me。
　　〃Exactly！〃
　　Floating　from　her　cranial　tympanum；　the　Anglic　word　seemed　stressed　with　soft　accents　of　excitement。　I　stared　for　a　long　time　and　finally　croaked　in　surprise。
　　〃You　mean　to　leave　the　Slope？　To　sneak　beyond　the　Rift？〃
　　I　should　have　known　better　than　to　ask。
　　All　it　would　have　taken　was　a　shift　in　the　roll　of　Ifni's　dice；　and　this　would　be　a　very　different　tale。　Things　came　that　close　to　going　the　way　Huck　wanted。
　　She　kept　badgering　me；　for　one　thing。　Even　after　we　finished　repairing　the　lattice　and　went　back　to　loitering　near　the　ships　moored　under　huge；　overhanging　gingourv　trees；　she　just　kept　at　it　with　her　special　bination　of　g'Kek　wit　and　hoonlike　persistence。
　　〃e　on；　Alvin。　Haven't　we　sailed　to　Terminus　Rock　dozens　of　times　and　dared　each　other　to　keep　on　going？　We　even　did　it；　once；　and　no　harm　ever　came！〃
　　〃Just　to　the　middle　of　the　Rift。　Then　we　scurried　home　again。〃
　　〃So？　Do　you　want　that　shame　sticking　forever？　This　may　be　our　last　chance！〃
　　I　rubbed　my　half…inflated　sac；　making　a　hollow；　rumbling　sound。　〃Aren't　you　forgetting；　we　already　have　a　project？　We're　building　a　bathy；　in　order　to　go　diving…〃
　　She　cut　loose　a　blat　of　disgust。　〃We　talked　it　over　last　week　and　you　agreed。　The　bathy　reeks。〃
　　〃I　agreed　to　think　about　it。　Hrm。　After　all；　Pincer　has　already　built　the　hull。　Chewed　it　himself　from　that　big　garu　log。　And　what　about　the　work　the　rest　of　us　put　in；　looking　up　old　Earthling　designs；　making　that　pressor　pump　and　cable？　Then　there　are　those　wheels　you　salvaged；　and　Ur…ronn's　porthole…〃
　　〃Yeah；　yeah。〃　She　renounced　all　our　labors　with　a　dismissive　twirl　of　two　stalks。　〃Sure；　it　was　fun　working　on　that　stuff　during　winter；　when　we　had　to　sit　indoors　anyway。　Especially　when　it　looked　like　it'd　never　actually　happen。　We　had　a　great　game　of　pretend。
　　〃But　things　are　getting　serious！　Pincer　talks　about　actually　making　a　deep　dive　in　a　month　or　two。　Didn't　we　agree　that's　crazy？　Didn't　we；　Alvin？〃　Huck　rolled　closer　and　did　something　I've　never　heard　another　g'Kek　do。　She　rumbled　an　umble　at　me；　mimicking　the　undertone　a　young　hoon　female　might　use　if　her　big；　handsome　male　was　having　trouble　seeing　things　her　way。
　　〃Now　wouldn't　you　rather　e　with　me　to　see　some　uttergloss　writings；　so　burnish　and　ancient　they　were　written　with　puters　and　lasers　and　such？　Hr…rm？　Doesn't　that　beat　drowning　in　a　stinky　dross　coffin；　halfway　to　the　bottom　of　the　sea？〃
　　Time　to　switch　languages。　While　I　normally　find　Anglic　more　buff　than　smug　old　star…god　tongues；　even　Mister　Heinz　agrees　that　its　〃human　tempos　and　loose　logical　structure　tend　to　favor　impetuous　enthusiasms。〃
　　Right　then；　I　needed　the　opposite；　so　I　shifted　to　the　whistles　and　pops　of　Galactic　Two。
　　〃Consideration　of　（punishable）　criminality…this　has　not　occurred　to　thee？〃
　　Unfazed；　she　countered　in　GalSeven；　the　formal　tongue　most　favored　by　humans。
　　〃We　are　minors；　friend。　Besides；　the　border　law　is　meant　to　thwart　illicit　breeding　beyond　the　permitted　zone。　Our　gang　has　no　such　intent！〃
　　Then；　in　a　quick　flip　to　Galactic　Two…
　　〃…Or　hast　thee　（perverted）　designs　to　attempt　（strange；　hybrid）　procreation　experiments　with　this　（virginal　female）　self？〃
　　What　a　thought！　Plainly　she　was　trying　to　keep　me　off　balance。　I　could　feel　control　slip　away。　Soon　I'd　find　myself　vowing　to　set　sail　for　those　dark　ruins　you　can　dimly　see　from　Terminus　Rock；　if　you　aim　an　urrish　telescope　across　the　Rift's　deep　waters。
　　Just　then；　my　eye　caught　a　familiar　disturbance　under　the　placid　bay。　A　ruddy　shape　swarmed　up　the　sandy　bank　until　a　dappled　crimson　carapace　burst　forth；　spraying　saltwater。　From　that　pact　pentagonal　shell；　a　fleshy　dome　raised；　girdled　by　a　glossy　black　ring。
　　〃Pincer！〃　I　cried；　glad　of　a　distraction　from　Huck's　hot　enthusiasm。　〃e　over　and　help　me　talk　to　this　silly…〃
　　But　the　young　qheuen　burst　ahead；　cutting　me　off　even　before　water　stopped　burbling　from　his　speech　vents。
　　〃M…m…mo…mo…mon…〃
　　Pincer's　not　as　good　at　Anglic　as　Huck　and　me；　especially　when　excited。　But　he　uses　it　to　prove　he's　as
　　humicking　modern　as　anyone。　I　held　up　my　hands。　〃Easy；　pal！　Take　a　breath。　Take　five！〃
　　He　exhaled　a　deep　sigh；　which　emerged　as　a　pair　of　bubble　streams　where　two　spiky　legs　were　still　submerged。　〃I　s…s…seen　'em！　This　time　I　really　s…seen　'em！〃
　　〃Seen　what？〃　Huck　asked；　rolling　across　squishy　sand。
　　The　vision　band　rimming　Pincer's　dome　looked　in　all　directions　at　once。　Still；　we　could　feel　our　friend's　intense　regard　as　he　took　another　deep　breath；　then　sighed　a　single　word。
　　〃Monsters！〃
　　
　　II。　THE　BOOK　OF　THE　SLOPE
　　Legends
　　The　better　part　of　a　million　years　has　passed　since　the　Buyur　departed　Jijo；　obeying　Galactic　rules　of　planetary　management　when　their　lease　on　this　world　expired；　whatever　they　could　not　carry　off；　or　store　in　lunar　caches；　the　Buyur　diligently　destroyed；　leaving　little　more　than　vine…crusted　rubble　where　their　mighty　cities　once　towered；　gleaming　under　the　sun。
　　Yet　even　now；　their　shadow　hangs　over　us…we　cursed　and　exiled　savages…reminding　us　that　gods　once　ruled　on　Jijo。
　　Living　here　as　illegal　squatters…as　sooners　who　must　never　dwell　beyond　this　strip　between　the　mountains　and　the　sea…we　of　the　Six　Races　can　only　look　with　superstitious　awe　at　eroded　Buyur　ruins。　Even　after　books　and　literacy　returned　to　our　mons；　we　lacked　the　tools　and　skills　to　analyze　the　remains　or　to　learn　much　about　Jijo's　last　lawful　tenants。　Some　recent　enthusiasts；　styling　themselves　archaeologists；　have　begun　borrowing　techniques　from　dusty　Earthling　texts；　but　these　devotees　cannot　even　tell　us　what　the　Buyur　looked　like；　let　alone　their　habits；　attitudes；　or　way　of　life。
　　Our　best　evidence　es　from　folklore。
　　Though　glavers　no　longer　speak…and　so　are　not　counted　among　the　Six…we　still　have　some　of　the　tales　they　used　to　tell；　passed　on　by　the　g'Keks；　who　knew　glavers　best；　before　they　devolved。
　　Once；　before　their　sneakship　came　to　Jijo；　when　glavers　roamed　the　stars　as　full　citizens　of　the　Five　Galaxies；　it　is　said　that　they　were　on　intimate　terms　with　a　race　called　the　Tunnuctyur；　a　great　and　noble　clan。　In　their　youth；　these　Tunnuctyur　had　been　clients　of　another　species…the　patron　that　uplifted　them；　giving　the　Tunnuctyur　mastery　of　speech；　tools；　and　sapiency。　Those　patrons　were　called　Buyur；　and　they　came　from　Galaxy　Four…from　a　world　with　a　huge　carbon　star　in　its　sky。
　　According　to　legend；　these　Buyur　were　known　as　clever　designers　of　small　living　things。
　　They　were　also　known　to　possess　a　rare　and　dangerous　trait…a　sense　of　humor。
　　…Mystery　of　the　Buyur
　　by　Hau…uphtunda；　Guild　of　Freelance
　　Scholars；　Year…of…Exile　1908。
　　
　　Asx
　　HEAR；　MY　RINGS；　THE　SONG　I　SING。　LET　ITS　VAPORS　rise　amid　your　cores；　and　sink　like　dripping　wax。　It　es　in　many　voices；　scents；　and　strengths　of　time。　It　weaves　like　a　g'Kek　tapestry；　flows　like　a　hoon　aria；　gallops　and　swerves　in　the　manner　of　urrish　legend；　and　yet　turns　inexorably；　as　with　the　pages　of　a　human　book。
　　The　story　begins　in　peace。
　　It　was　springtime；　early　in　the　second　lunar　cycle　of　the　nineteen　hundred　and　thirtieth　year　of　our　exile…and…crime；　when　the　Rothen　arrived；　manifesting　unwele　in　our　sky。　Shining　sunlike　in　their　mastery　of　air　and　aether；　they　rent　the　veil　of　our　concealment　at　the　worst　of　all　possible　times…during　the　vernal　gathering…of…tribes；　near　the　blessed　foot　of　Jijo's　Egg。
　　There　we　had　e；　as　so　often　since　the　Emergence；　to　hear　the　great　ovoid's　music。　To　seek　guidance　patterns。　To　trade　the　produce　of　our　varied　talents。　To　settle　disputes；　pete　in　games；　and　renew　the　mons。　Above　all；　seeking　ways　to　minimize　the　harm　done　by　our　ill…starred　presence　on　this　world。
　　Gathering…a　time　of　excitement　for　the　young；　work　for　the　skilled；　and　farewells　for　those　nearing　the　end　of　years。　Already　there　had　spread　rumors…portents…that　this　assembly　would　be　momentous。　More　than　a　usual　quota　from　each　clan　had　e。　Along　with　sages　and　roamers；　grafters　and　techies；　many　simple　folk　of　two　legs；　four　and　five…and　of　wheel　and　ring…followed　drumbeats　along　still…frosted　mountain　tracks　to　reach　the　sacred　glades。　Among　each　race；　manifold　had　felt　the　tremors…stronger　than　any　since　that　provident　year　when　the　Egg　burst　from　Jijo's　mother　soil；　shedding　hot　birth…dust；　then　settling　to　rule　our　fractious　passions　and　unite　us。
　　Ah；　Gathering。
　　This　latest　pilgrimage　may　not　yet　have　solidified　as　waxy　memory。　But　try　to　recall　slowly　wending　our　now…aged　pile　of　rings　aboard　ship　at　Far　Wet　Sanctuary；　to　sail　past　the　glistening　Spectral　Flow　and　the　Plain　of　Sharp　Sand。
　　Did　not　those　familiar　wonders　seem　to　pale　when　we　reached　the　Great　Marsh　and　found　it　in　bloom？　Something　seen　once　in　a　traeki　lifetime？　A　sea　of　color…flowering；　fruiting；　and　already　dying　gaudily　before　our　senses。　Transferring　from　boat　to　barge；　we　travelers　rowed　amid　great　pungency；　under　avenues　of　million…petalled　sylph　canopies。
　　Our　panions　took　this　as　an　omen；　did　they　not；　my　rings？　The　humans　in　our　midst　spoke　of　mysterious　Ifni；　the　capricious　one；　whose　verdicts　are　not　always　just　but　are　ever…surprising。
　　Do　you　recall　other　sights/experiences？　The　weaver　villages？　The　mule…spiders　and　hunting　camps？　And　finally　that　arduous　climb；　twist　by　twist　of　our　straining　foot…pads；　through　the　Pass　of　Long　Umbras　to　reach　this　green　vale　where；　four　traeki　generations　ago；　geysers　steamed　and　rainbows　danced；　celebrating　the　dark　ovoid's　emergence？
　　Recollect；　now；　the　crunch　of　volcanic　gravel；　and　how　the　normally　obedient　rewq…beast　trembled　on　our　head…ring；　mutinously　refusing　to　lay　itself　over　our　eyelets；　so　that　we　arrived　in　camp　barefaced；　unmasked；　while　children　of　all　Six　Races　scurried；　shouting；　〃Asx！　Asx！　Asx；　the　traeki；　has　e！〃
　　Picture　the　other　High　Sages…colleagues　and　friends…emerging　from　their　tents　to　walk；　slither；　roll；　and　greet　us　with　this　epithet。　This　label　they　regard　as　permanently　attached　to　〃me〃…a　fiction　that　i　humor。
　　Do　you　recall　all　that；　my　rings？
　　Well；　patience　then。　Memories　congeal　like　dripping　wax；　simmering　to　coat　our　inner　core。　Once　there；　they　can　never　be　forgotten。
　　On　Jijo　there　is　a　deep　shine　in　the　section　of　sky　farthest　from　the　sun。　We　are　told　this　is　rare　on　worlds　catalogued　by　the　Great　Galactics；　an　effect　of　carbon　grains…the　same　ones　that　seed　the　hollow　hail…grains　sent　by　Izmunuti；　the　glaring　star…eye　in　a　constellation　humans　call　Job's　Torment。　It　is　said　our　ancestors　studied　such　traits　of　their　new　home　before　burning　and　burying　their　ships。
　　It　is　also　said　that　they　simply　〃looked　it　all　up〃　in　a　portable　branch　of　the　Galactic　Library…be