Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [144]
The mysterious constructs marched across the landscape in a broad, sweeping curve, extending as far to the east and west as the travelers could see. They were not guarded, or fenced off from the public. Their smooth, slightly pitted flanks made them impossible for curious children to climb. Nor were they sited on similar plots of land. One rose from the bank of a wide, sluggish stream while the next all but abutted a hay barn and the third flanked the farm road down which the travelers were presently walking. In the absence of significant hills or mountains, they dominated the flat terrain.
Leaving the road, the travelers took a moment to examine one up close. Beneath their fingers the pitted metal was cool and pebbly to the touch.
“I don’t recognize the stuff.” Simna dragged his nails along the lightly polished surface. “It’s not iron or steel. The color suggests bronze, but there’s no green anywhere on it. Standing out in the weather like this you’d expect bronze to green fast.”
“It would depend on the mix in the alloy.” Ehomba gently rapped the dun-colored surface with a closed fist. As near as he could tell it was solid, not hollow. A lot of foundry work for no immediately discernible purpose, he decided. “If it is not an alloy it is no metal I know.”
“Nor I.” Leaning back, Simna scrutinized the triangular-shaped hole that pierced the upper portion of the construct.
Hunkapa Aub pushed with all his weight against the front of the structure. It did not move, or even quiver. Whoever had placed it here had set it solidly and immovably in the earth.
“What for?”
Ehomba considered. “It could be for anything, Hunkapa. They might be religious symbols. Or some sort of historic boundary markers showing where the old kingdom of Hamacassar’s frontier once ended. Or they might be nothing more than part of an elaborate scheme of municipal art.”
“Typical human work. Waste of time.” Ahlitah was inspecting the stream bank for edible freshwater shellfish.
“We could ask a local. Surely they would know.” Wiping his hands against his kilt, Ehomba started back toward the road.
“Hoy, we could,” Simna agreed, “if we could get one to stand still long enough. They don’t run from the sight of us, but I’ve yet to see one that didn’t hurry to lock him- or herself away if it looked like we might be heading in their direction.” Making a face, he indicated their two outsized companions. “Get the cat and the shag beast to hide themselves in a field and you and I might be able to walk up to a farmhouse without the tenants shutting the door in our faces.”
Back up on the road, they once more resumed their trek northward. The nearer they got to the river, the more residents of Hamacassar they encountered. These gave the eccentric quartet a wide and wary, if polite, berth.
“There is no need to unsettle any of the locals.” Ehomba’s staff stirred up a little puff of dust each time it was planted firmly on the hard-packed surface. “I am sure we will learn the meaning of the monoliths in the course of making contacts throughout the city.” He strode along eagerly, setting a much more rapid pace than usual.
“Hoy, long bruther, I’m glad you’re in a good mood, but remember that not all of us have your beanpole legs.”
“Sorry.” Ehomba forced himself to slow down. “I did not realize I was walking so fast.”
“Walking? You’ve been on the verge of breaking into a run ever since we came down out of the hills.” The swordsman jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The brute’s legs are longer than yours and the cat has four to our two, but I’m not in either class stride-wise. Have a thought for me, Etjole, if no one else.”
“It is just that we are so close, Simna.” Uncharacteristic excitement bubbled in the herdsman’s voice.
“Close to what?” The swordsman’s tone was considerably less ebullient. “To maybe, if we’re lucky, finding passage