The City And The Stars - Arthur C. Clarke [41]
At last Alvin broke the lake’s enchantment, and continued along the winding road. The forest closed around him once more, but only for a little while. Presently the road ended, in a great clearing half a mile wide and twice as long—and Alvin understood why he had seen no trace of man before.
The clearing was full of low, two-storeyed buildings, coloured in soft shades that rested the eye even in the full glare of the sun. Most were of clean, straight-forward design, but several were built in a complex architectural style involving the use of fluted columns and gracefully fretted stone. In these buildings, which seemed of great age, the immeasurably ancient device of the pointed arch was used.
As he walked slowly towards the village, Alvin was still struggling to grasp his new surroundings. Nothing was familiar; even the air changed, with its hint of throbbing, unknown life. And the tall, golden-haired people going among the buildings with such unconscious grace were obviously of a different stock from the men of Diaspar.
They took no notice of Alvin, and that was strange, for his clothing was totally different from theirs. Since the temperature never changed in Diaspar, dress there was purely ornamental and often extremely elaborate. Here it seemed mainly functional, designed for use rather than display, and frequently consisted of a single sheet draped round the body.
It was not until Alvin was well inside the village that the people of Lys reacted to his presence, and then their response took a somewhat unexpected form. A group of five men emerged from one of the houses and began to walk purposefully towards him—almost as if, indeed, they had been expecting his arrival. Alvin felt a sudden, heady excitement and the blood pounded in his veins. He thought of all the fateful meetings men must have had with other races on far-off worlds. Those he was meeting now were of his own species—but how far had they diverged in the aeons that had sundered them from Diaspar?
The delegation came to a halt a few feet away from Alvin. Its leader smiled, holding out his hand in the ancient gesture of friendship.
‘We thought it best to meet you here,’ he said. ‘Our home is very different from Diaspar, and the walk from the terminus gives visitors a chance to become—acclimatised.’
Alvin accepted the outstretched hand, but for a moment was too surprised to reply. Now he understood why all the other villagers had ignored him so completely.
‘You knew I was coming?’ he said at length.
‘Of course. We always know when the carriers start to move. Tell me—how did you discover the way? It has been such a long time since the last visit that we feared the secret had been lost.’
The speaker was interrupted by one of his companions.
‘I think we’d better restrain our curiosity, Gerane. Seranis is waiting.’
The name ‘Seranis’ was preceded by a word unfamilar to Alvin, and he assumed that it was a title of some kind. He had no difficulty in understanding the others, and it never occurred to him that there was anything surprising about this. Diaspar and Lys shared the same linguistic heritage, and the ancient invention of sound recording had long ago frozen speech in an unbreakable mould.
Gerane gave a shrug of mock resignation. ‘Very well,’ he smiled, ‘Seranis has few privileges—I should not rob her of this one.’
As they walked deeper into the village, Alvin studied the men around him. They appeared kindly and intelligent, but these were virtues he had taken for granted all his life, and he was looking for ways in which they differed from a similar group in Diaspar. There were differences, but it was hard to define them.