A Passage of Stars Read Online Free PDF Page A

troubles your heart,
    to the trustiest care of him,
    who controls the heavens;
    he who gives clouds, air and winds
    their paths, course and track,
    he will also find ways
    where your feet can walk.”
    Lily hung grimly on to the wheel, and they went forward.

3 A Bird in the Hand
    T HE HARD HAT SAVED her. Her head and the metal mesh ceiling of the cage met more times than she could count, until her back and neck ached with the shock. Bach sang obscure hymns with strange and inexplicable lyrics for almost half the trip. But, coming around a nondescript corner of rock, a sudden blast of wind picked the front end of the truck up until they were vertical, then slammed it down so hard that the engine died, and Bach’s singing ceased. A lower, ominous tone rumbled down from above: avalanche. Lily fought the engine, but it coughed and started only to die again as a massive fall of rock thundered down directly on top of them. A huge boulder hit square on top of the cage, shattering into pebbles and debris that, showering down through the mesh, scored a tear through the right sleeve of Lily’s coat and scratched a long, ugly line into the impeccable surface of Bach’s exterior. With her reflexive jerk, ducking, she jolted the engine into a strong surge, and the truck lurched forward over the new heap of sliding, unstable debris. When Bach began to sing again—for the third time—the one beginning “A mighty fortress is my truck,” Lily told him to shut up.
    He remained silent, except for the occasional dissonant chord surprised from him by some close encounter with imminent destruction, until Lily brought the battered vehicle to a halt in the wind shadow of Apron Rock, the huge, stable monolith of rock that demarcated the western edge of Apron Port. Here he ventured a brief thanksgiving chorus, very softly.
    Lily had to uncurl each finger separately to get her hands ungripped from the steering wheel. Massaging each hand in turn, she gazed down at the scattered lights below.
    Apron Port lay in a gorge. Broad enough that competent pilots could land between the high walls, the gorge sheltered the town from the worst of the winds. A foundation of stable rock prevented avalanches, so much of the port was built above ground, better to serve the ships, which came in great numbers to carry away the products of the three House mines of the region: Chan, Ooalata, and, of course, Ran-some.
    Red and blue warning lights blinked in wild patterns across the landing fields to the south of the town. In the town itself, the streetlights glowed amber. The sighing clatter of the wind generators hummed in the air, almost drowned out by the swelling tear of the wind. The flash of their whirling faces lit most of the heights around the gorge. Here and there orange lights marked maintenance shafts.
    Lily rubbed the screen of dirt off her face with the palm of one glove. The buckles of the safety belts around her and Bach took several moments to unfasten because they were clogged with debris. Bach, listing slightly to one side, followed her as she climbed down. They stood in a shallow cave. On three sides the rock rose over them; on the fourth the wind whipped past. Lily stamped her feet, and a faint shower of dust drifted from her to the ground.
    “Hoy,” she said. Bach, his shine dulled by dust, was still rolling slightly to one side as he rose two meters. All his lights came on, blinking in a maze of colors, and he sang an unfamiliar phrase and righted himself.
    “Right ho,” said Lily, watching him, and she whistled, Let us go.
    They hiked against a rising wind to the nearest lift shaft. Inside it was blissfully silent except for the low hum of the machinery. Lily leaned back against the cold smoothness of the metal walls and shut her eyes. Bach hovered a hands-breadth above the floor as if he was examining himself in its brilliant sheen and was not, perhaps, entirely happy with what he saw. A sound like an indrawn sigh signaled their halt, and