The Ruined City Read Online Free PDF Page B

evidence offered absolute proof of a truth long suspected but never before verified—that the amphibian Sishmindris were susceptible to the human disease. They could contract the plague and presumably spread it. There was an instinctive shrinking withdrawal from the potential source of contagion.
    The glazed golden eyes of the standing Sishmindri roamed from face to frozen face as in search of aid. A fervent but unintelligible chain of syllables rasped out of him. He stretched forth a web-fingered hand, and the nearest humans backed away. Throwing back his flat-topped head, he loosed a delirious croak that rose to the level of a scream, then tottered and fell prone beside his companion. His body commenced to jerk.
    For a long moment the staring citizens stood frozen. Action was called for, but dangerous, and nobody ventured to approach. Soon, however, some pragmatic individual found a way. There was a speeding blur of activity, a couple of sounds better unheard, then a cheap taped hilt protruding from a heaving greenish chest. Some decisive individual blessed with good aim had thrown a knife. Within the space of as many seconds, another half-dozen knives followed, and three of them hit their targets. The wounds appeared mortal, but the plaguey amphibians refused to die.
    The supply of immediately available blades was exhausted, but there were other weapons to be had. The Plaza of Proclamation was kept indifferently clean, these days. Refuse and rubble lay strewn everywhere. Stones, brickbats, and broken bottles came readily to hand. In an instant, these missiles were pelting the Sishmindris.
    The flying rocks did their work, and the doleful outcry subsided to a feeble croaking, inaudible above the fierce shouts of the citizens. The uproar drew the attention of the guards stationed at the nearest Cityheart entrance, and a pair of them approached to investigate. Thrusting their way to the center of the human clump, they caught the gang of Faerlonnish nationalsvandalizing the governor’s property, and drew their swords at once.
    “Clear off, you lot,” one of the Taerleezis bellowed, making himself audible above the din. “Out of here, or face charges.”
    Vociferous protest followed, but the overlapping, sometimes incoherent attempts at justification fell on deaf ears. The Taerleezi guards saw only a pair of valuable Sishmindris, clothed in the livery of the governor’s household, fallen victim to senseless Faerlonnish violence. The wretched creatures—glistening with blue-green fluid, cut, bruised, swollen, and maimed almost beyond recognition—still stirred feebly, but appeared unsalvageable. Even as the disgusted guards looked on, a rock flew from the crowd to strike a greenish head. The Sishmindri quivered and went still.
    It was outright mutiny, and it had to be quelled. Turning to the nearest citizen, a stout and threadbare laborer, one of the guards dealt a sweeping backhanded blow to the face with the flat of his sword. The victim dropped to the pavement. He had not flung the most recent rock, but he was identifiable by his manifest poverty as Faerlonnish, and for the moment that was enough.
    Protest roared; stones and bottles flew at Sishmindris and Taerleezis alike. One of the soldiers went down, bleeding from a head wound, at sight of which his companion thrust steel through the nearest set of Faerlonnish vitals, whose owner was young and female. At that instant the gathering of outraged citizens coalesced into a mob. A dark roar thundered through the Plaza of Proclamation, and set the Cityheart windows to rattling. A boiling human tide overwhelmed the two Taerleezi guards, and the pent rage of decades found murderous release. Moments later the guards at the Cityheart entrance were likewise annihilated. Still seething, the tide flung itself against the heavy door, which was locked and barred.
    For some minutes longer they remained there, some screaming threats and imprecations at the Taerleezi governor immured