The Texts Of Festival Read Online Free PDF Page B

starin’ at, mutha, ain’tcha got no work?’
    Iggy aimed a kick at the hill boy who scuttled away; then he buckled on his gun, pulled his wide brimmed hat over his eyes and stepped down into the village square. He was aware that he cut an impressive figure in front of his men. He had class. His black silk shirt was an antique, as were his high boots while the black trousers of finished leather with the silver studs down the outside seams had belonged to one of the sharpest dressers in Festival until he had taken a fancy to them. His hard eyes, which contrasted so strikingly with the soft femininity of the rest of his face, scanned the dusty square of the little village. He scowled; it was little more than a collection of brick and thatch cottages grouped around a well and a square of beaten earth. He knew that he could do better than this. At his signal a villager brought his horse.
    Men started to assemble in the village square as Winston spread the word. Iggy selected seven of his top guns and told them to saddle up. A pillar of smoke rose from the signal fire. Oltha would be coming in. Iggy grinned and sniffed a small pinch of crystal. Winston hurried across the square.
    ‘Break out the repeaters.’
    ‘Sho’ Iggy.’
    ‘An’ load ’em.’
    ‘Sho’.’
    The seven men whom Iggy had selected returned with their horses; then Winston led a party of villagers who carried the eight priceless rapid-fire guns into the square.
    ‘Okay, each of yous take a repeater; we gonna blow Oltha when he sees us.’
    The guns were handed out and Iggy turned to Winston. ‘Get the rest of the boys spread out, an’ wait. Okay?’
    ‘Okay.’
    Iggy mounted and the troop of eight rode out of the village.
    Oltha’s tribe wound its way down the hillside. The scouts had spotted the signal and Oltha had moved the tribe. At the front, his ten best guns bunched behind him, Oltha looked back at the whole tribe. If it was a trap there was no way back. They would have to fight their way out of it.
    As they neared the foot of the slope Oltha saw Iggy and his men sitting motionless by a small clump of trees perhaps three hundred paces distant. Oltha raised his hand and one by one the tribe halted. For a while they paused, peering across the valley at their future allies; then Oltha kicked his pony and, motioning to the ten to follow, thundered across the grass to where Iggy and his seven riders sat waiting.
    Iggy watched, his face blank as the tribesmen galloped towards them. Only the occasional twitch of the black gloved hands showed the tension and the hits of crystal he had been through on the way to this meeting.
    With ten paces between the two groups, Oltha halted his men. They wheeled their ponies flashily, making them rear and throw up divots of turf. Then they formed into a line and Oltha walked his pony slowly forward. Iggy, equally slowly, rode out from the shadow of the copse to meet him. Facing each other they halted.
    ‘Greetings from the tribe of Oltha.’
    ‘Hi there, ride t’village?’
    Oltha dispatched a man to bring in the tribe. Then he and Iggy rode off towards the village. The two groups of horsemen fell in together and followed them.
    Nath covertly eyed the men who rode amongst his brothers. They looked ill-fed, thin, gaunt, with staring eyes; although their rich clothes, larger mounts and the fact that, to a man, they carried rapid-fire guns belied any suggestion of poverty.
    Iggy and Oltha rode side by side. Iggy surreptitiously glanced at the hill chief. These hill boys were a mean bunch, with their short shaggy ponies and rough leather clothes. With these hick butchers he could run rings through Festival. There would be a problem in controlling them, of course. At least until he had them strung out on crystal and that wouldn’t be easy. By the look of the mob coming down the hill there must be a few hundred of them and the chief would probably know enough to suspect if he went around handing the stuff out like