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particular light-eater rose about a hundred times T'ang Lang's height. But he
was not subject to vertigo. Heights held no more fear for him than his
neighbors. He had other reasons for not climbing to 86 The Empire of Tang
Lang the very top. The platform there was usually unstable. So while it
afforded a better view of his lands, the increased wind and smaller blind made
prey harder to come by, strikes more difficult. He rose slowly, patiently,
without the hurry that afflicted most climbers. Others who shared the
light-eater's body gave him plenty of room. About twenty body-lengths up, he
passed a Retia-rius. The gladiator had snuggled himself comfortably across the
way. He waved to T'ang Lang as the other passed. T'ang favored the creature
with a long stare, putting only token power into it. He was clever with his
net, was the Retiarius. But it was not intended for the likes of T'ang Lang
and the Retiarius knew it. Even despite it, T'ang could still kill the
gladiator and shred his precious net. T'ang moved higher. For a moment, a
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plump tube-man crossed his path. But the clumsy being was moving rapidly in
the opposite direction. He was on a far platform with too much open space
between them. Perhaps it sensed T'ang Lang's presence. Perhaps not. T'ang
stared hard at it, opening his mind and focusing the strange power behind his
mesmeric eyes. But the tube-man was out of range and knew it. It turned once,
to glance back at where Tang fumed impotently on his temporary platform. The
ultimate insult. For a moment, maybe, Tang Lang was angry. Then he sighed. Let
the tube-man have his one moment of triumph. If ever he came within range of
the smallest and lightest of Tang's weapons, he would die faster than he would
be born. It was not long thereafter that T'ang located what he wanted. An open
-platform, with the sun to one side, well-screened from above but open below
and in front. A cluster of foodstuffs rested just ahead, on a slightly lower
level. They would serve as excellent bait, attracting fliers and airborne
city-folk. Perhaps a young one would drift by, propulsors 87 WITH FRIENDS LIKE
THESE . .. humming, straining with the awkward unit to stay no-' ground. Close
by. Tang Lang settled himself, making an elaborate ritual out of it. Once set,
he would not move again until it was time to kill. He tested the footing of
the platform, found it pleasantly firm. T'ang was old and knowledgeable. This
would be a good place. He carefully spread out and arranged his weapons, ready
for instant use. Then he assumed the Ben-na, the position of contemplation.
For T'ang was also something of a philosopher and had no intention of wasting
away his waiting time. It had been claimed by others, probably even the
city-folk, that if Tang's people had ever decided to pool the wisdom they'd
accumulated over the millennia, they could form the most destructive society
their world had ever known. But there was a spark in T'ang Lang, an
unquenchable streak of individualism that precluded any such cooperation.
Fraternizing was discouraged. Besides, were they not rulers individually? How
much better than to submit to a central authority, as the city-builders had
done! Tang's people knew they were superior. And each considered himself
superior to his brother. A small base on which to try and raise a social
order. T'ang found much of interest and pleasure in the harmony of the world.
The sun rained down steadily, wombishly wannthful. An occasional breeze
trekked across his platform. Across the great Green Plain that was the most
dominant physical feature of his world, other light-eaters were busy at their
work. Placid and content in their stolid existence, they were rulers in their
own way. But they could be killed. T'ang had yet to meet anyone who could not.
Probably even the sun could be killed, but it was even further away than the
end of the Green Plain. The opinion was held by some that the light-eaters
were the stupidest of aU living creatures. Another school thought them the
most intelligent. Assuredly they were 88 The Empire of T'ang Lang dedicated
pacifists. The light-eaters themselves did not contest these arguments either
way. Possibly this in itself was a sign of that very disputed
intelligence. T'ang Lang wondered, and stared. One of the lancers flashed by.
The lancer-folk owned the finest propulsive systems on Tang's world. Superbly
engineered, they could move at tremendous speed across the sky. Their equally
amazing detection systems could spot prey many thousands of body-lengths away.
They were capable of twisting, diving attacks few could avoid. Once, their
ancestors had been lords of the planet. Time had changed things and they had
slipped back. But they were still a formidable factor in T'ang's world.
Despite their speed and ability, though, T'ang would make short work of one if
it darted too close. The isky-man knew it. After a sharp glare at T'ang, he
gunned his propulsors and shot off hi search of prey of his own. Yes, a good
day to be alive and emperor. There were many of the sky-folk about, cavorting
in the downy-warm air. None flew near T'ang Lang. T'ang was not anxious. He'd
fed well the previous day. For the nonce he was mildly satisfied. High
karma. The great light-eater, the Bodikiddartha, rose many thousands of
body-lengths above T'ang's present platform. Soaring toward the sun, it stood
quietly on the other side of the Green Plain, breathing. Someday T'ang would
cross that plain and climb the great bulk. If only to see the world on the
other side. Perhaps a slip of motion caught his eyes. So intent had he been on
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the panorama in front of him, he had failed to notice the approach of a cyuma,
a castle-man, to the cluster of foodstuffs. It hadn't spotted T'ang. With
infinite slowness, slower than the planet aged, he shifted his head to gain a
better view. The torpid creature seemed concerned only with the
foodstuffs. 89 WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . .. The castle-men were glamorous and
daring, skilled weaponeers with their deadly rapiers. They had speed and
agility to support their arrogance. Some believed themselves kings of the
world. And Tang Lang? They found it convenient to avoid him. It was an
adolescent castle-man. He was edging uncaringly about the foodstuffs.
Preparing to gorge himself, no doubt. Who would dare attack one of the
castle-folk? Pang leaned gently forward. He had gone into killing mode. Now
nothing in the universe could distract him until he struck. The castle-man
grew until it swallowed the world, became the world. And it was going to
die. Knives at the ready, always ready. Superbly crafted and designed, they
could penetrate with such speed and force that sometimes a victim would expire
of shock. The castle-man was stupid. His inferior genes would not be saved for
transfer to others of his kind. No one would grieve for him. T'ang Lang
struck. The castle-man shrieked once as he was hit. Tang struck with such [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]