Star Wars_ Splinter of the Mind's Eye - Alan Dean Foster [62]
Despite Luke’s feeling that their translucent assailant would attack again, they weren’t bothered for several hours. But then it didn’t matter. The far shore of the lake finally hove into view.
Only there was something more than a naked shoreline coming toward them. “Surely the Coway didn’t build that,” Luke whispered in awe.
An ancient dock protruded from the dry ground ahead. While no boats of any kind were in sight, the long finger of metal extending out into the water left no doubt as to its function, its alien design notwithstanding.
Luke had less luck identifying the purposes of the numerous structures clustered all along the shore. Many appeared raised from stone, others had metal walls, and some combinations of both materials. No matter what the composition, every one displayed signs of considerable age. Not a single edifice rose unmarred by time. Try as he might, Luke couldn’t locate a single window. Openings which must have served as doors were squatly oval.
They paddled for the left-hand shore until the pad thumped bottom. Stepping out into the water up to his waist, Luke extended a supportive hand for the Princess. She remained in the boat, not exactly frightened, but devoid of confidence.
“Come on,” Luke urged her, “it’s not deep here.”
“But I’d have to step in the water. I’d rather not, Luke.”
“It’s all right,” he assured her, masking any impatience. “You can make it in a few steps.”
She shook her head again. Luke sighed, waded to the edge of the pad. He extended both arms. She slipped into them and he carried her to dry land, noticing as he did so how tightly she held her eyes closed.
Finally they were sitting gratefully on the stone berm, no longer caring if their makeshift craft floated away. Behind them the city of the Thrella loomed silently.
“Okay now?” he inquired, leaning forward and looking at her face. She didn’t meet his eyes.
“I’m okay. I’m sorry I was so much trouble. I’m sorry I did so much screaming. I … usually have better control of myself than that.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he assured her firmly. “Certainly not for screaming. As for being frightened,” he smiled gently, “I was twice as terrified as you when that half-goblin came up out of the water at us. I was too busy to be screaming, or I’m sure I would have.”
“Oh, it wasn’t the monster so much,” Leia explained disarmingly. “That was a real, palpable threat.” She got to her feet, continued almost casually, “It’s just that I can’t swim.”
Luke sat staring at her in disbelief as she wrung water from her torn coveralls. “Why didn’t you say something before we pushed off?” he finally managed to ask.
She gave him a wry smile. “Would that have mattered, Luke? The trail vanished into the lake.” She gestured toward the unmistakable pathway that re-emerged from the water’s edge nearby and wound into the subterranean city. “We had to get across. It was an unfortunate but unavoidable situation. I didn’t see any point in burdening you with my own childhood fears.” She walked toward the pathway.
“Look, it goes on through the town. I’d like to meet the people who built this place.” She glanced back at him impatiently. “We’re wasting time.”
Dumb with admiration, he climbed erect and followed her into the maze of structures. It rapidly became clear that the city was the product of an intelligence that had long since disappeared from Mimban. Everything was neatly laid out, and the metalwork showed signs of advanced techniques. The decay of the buildings was due to time, not shoddy design or construction. Given the relative paucity of natural erosion underground, the city had to be ancient indeed.
The absence of right angles and a preference for sweeping curves and arches indicated that the inhabitants of the city had been aesthetically as well as architecturally talented. Beauty of design was another luxury primitive peoples could rarely afford, generally having to gear their construction strictly to the utilitarian.
Something clattered softly behind them and Luke whirled. The mystifying