02 Quetzals Flock

QUETZAL'S FLOCK
"Do you have some of that ointment you use for sore spots? Hammadi gave
me some when I chaffed my crotch sore on the Picun."
One of the five warriors still had a little steam left in him. He reared up when
he heard the name of his hated enemy. Kane thrust him down roughly and he swore
like a trooper - which wasn't surprising, since he probably was one.
"Watch it my friend. If you think the Bole can do you damage, you haven't
seen me in action!"
Nuraghe made a hasty introduction.
"This is the Lord Quetzal. He wishes to meet the Tepe Eridos. He carries the
image of the Tepe Eridos."
His explanation was intended to explain everything, it didn't, but they reserved
judgement. Kane and Nuraghe spent a sticky half hour anointing wounds with a
supply of the ointment. The place smelt like a Picun corral by the time they had
finished. The five wounded still glowered suspiciously, particularly in the direction of
the Bole. Kane took a chance and left them together with Nuraghe. It wasn't much of
a chance, the Bole would record the conversation and take appropriate action if it
became a conspiracy.
He wandered to the upper level and stepped out into the bare area of rock
surrounding the pinnacles. He looked out across the expanse of crops to the distant,
low profile of the crater lip. The red star had a great flare out to one side. It was still
gaseous and tenuous but it was much greater than before. The harbinger of the Dwarf.
He was rather pleased with the poetic thought. He wondered if he ought to leave the
six men alone for too long, he was reassured by the thought of his super spy.
He worked his way around the base of the pinnacles to the far side where they
kept the Picun. A few of the locals moved slowly in the torrid heat. They ignored him,
enveloped in their flowing Kous, with their hood drawn down over their faces. The air
was like a blast furnace and heavy with the stench of the Picun. It wasn't a pleasant
place to be, but at least, it was out of the direct light of the red sun. He stood in the
shadows, conscious of the sweat trickling down his body under the Kous. He retreated
from the heat and found the entrance down into the coolness.
The flares flickered on the smooth stone surfaces of the passages and stairs.
Everything was still, except for the slap of his sandals on the cool floor. He stopped
abruptly. That was it! That was what had impressed on his subconscious since he had
arrived. Everything was still! Not only the caverns, but the whole planet. The
shuddering and quaking had subsided. It was as if Jubal was storing itself up for some
titanic outburst. It was gathering itself for the last, final, gut-tearing convulsion. When
that happened, it would burst open like a gathered boil and spew its guts over tens of
millions of cubic kilometres of space!
He re-entered his chamber cautiously. The Bole didn't clamour an alarm. He
looked into the faces of his six visitors. They were reclining on whatever they could
find and the place smelt worse than before. They returned his gaze solemnly, the
hostility had subsided.
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