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Across a rocky slope of crumbled granite patched with
snow was a mountainside that appeared to have been deluged
with frozen tar. It was encrusted with ice and snow in
occasional crevices.
Clearly the immense, smooth masses of black which
jutted like an oily waterfall from the flank of the mountain-
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side were composed of material much tougher than tar.
They resembled a succession of monstrous bubbles piled
one atop another without bursting. Holes pockmarked the
blackness.
It was the metallic luster that led Flor to exclaim in
surprise, "Por dios, es hematite."
"What?" Jon-Tom turned a puzzled expression on her.
"Hematite, Jon-Tom. It's an iron ore that occurs naturally
in formations like that," and she pointed to the mountainside,
"though I never learned of any approaching such size. The
formation is called mammary, or reniform, I think."
"What is she saying?" asked Clothahump with interest.
"That the 'iron' part of the name Ironcloud is taken from
reality and not poetry. Come on!"
They descended the gentle slope on the other side of the
saddle and made their way across the stony plateau. The huge
black extrusion hung above them, millions of tons of near-
iron as secure as the mountain itself. Viewed against the
surrounding snow and sky, it did indeed look much like a
cloud.
But where were the fabled inhabitants, he wondered? What
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could they be like? The holes which pierced the masses
overhead hinted at their possible abode, but though the party
surveyed them intently there was no hint of motion from
within.
"It looks abandoned," said Talea, staring upward.
"Don't see a soul," Pog commented from nearby.
They slid their burdensome backpacks off while examining
184
THE HOUK Of THE GATE
the inaccessible caves above. Climbing the granite wall was
out of the question. Not only did the massive formation
overhang but the smooth iron offered little purchase. Without
sophisticated mountaineering gear there was no way they
could reach even the lowest of the caves.
It was clear enough how the invisible inhabitants managed
the feat, however. From the rim of each cave opening hung a
long vine. Knots were tied in each roughly six inches apart.
The profusion of dangling vines, swaying gently in the
mountain breeze, gave the formation the look of a dark man
with a beard.
The problem arose from the fact that the shortest cable-vine
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was a good two hundred feet long. No one thought themself
capable of the combination of strength and dexterity neces-
sary to make the climb. Talea considered it, but the thinness
of the vine precluded the attempt. Whoever used the vines
weighed a good deal less than any in the frustrated party of
visitors.
Mudge was agile, but he wasn't fond of climbing. Ananthos
was clearly too large to enter the hole, though he stood the
best chance of rising to the height.
"We waste time on peripheral argument," Clothahump
finally snorted at them, when he was at last able to get a word
in. "Pog!"
Everyone looked around, but the bat was nowhere to be
seen.
" 'Ere 'e is!" Mudge pointed toward a large boulder.
They ran to the spot to find the bat squatting resolutely on
the gravel behind the rock. He looked up at them with
determined bat eyes. 
"No way am I going up dere and sticking my nose in one
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of dose black pits. No telling what might take a notion to bite
it off."
"Come now, mate," said Mudge reasonably, adjusting his
185
Alan Dean Foster
parka top, "be sensible. You're the only arboreal among us.
If I didn't think that vine'd bust under me weight, I'd give a
climb a good try. But why the 'ell should one o' us 'ave t'
risk that, when you could be up there and back in a bloody
minute or two without so much as strainin' your wings?"
"An accurate evaluation of our situation." Caz positioned
his monocle tighter over his left eye. He'd steadfastly refused
to surrender the affectation, even at the risk of losing the
monocle in the snow. "You know, you really should have
been up there and back already, on your own initiative."
"Initiative, hell!" Pog flapped his wings angrily. "One
more display of 'initiative' from dis crazy bunch and we'll
find ourselves meat on somebody's table."
"Now Pog," Clothahump began wamingly.
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"Yeah, I know, I know, boss. Go to it or ya'll turn me into
a human or worse." He sighed, unfurled his wings experi-
mentally.
"perhaps i could get up there at least if i can't fit inside,
i could attach to a hole above and hang down to, look in." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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