The Link | Page 6

shot high into the air,
throwing a ghastly light on the frightened Jungle-land. Spires of flame
seemed to be seeking the stars with their fingers as the plastic walls and
streets of the city hissed and shriveled, blackening, bubbling into a
vanishing memory before their eyes. The flames shot high, carrying
with them the last remnants of the city which had stood proud and tall
an hour before. Then a silence fell, deathly, like the lifeless silence of a
grave. Out of the silence, little whispering sounds of the Jungle-land
crept to their ears, first frightened, then curious, then bolder and bolder
as the wisps of grass and little animals ventured out and out toward the
clearing where the city had stood. Bit by bit the Jungle-land gathered
courage, and the clearing slowly, silently, began to disappear.
Days later new sparks of light appeared in the black sky. They grew to
larger specks, then to flares, and finally settled to the earth as powerful,
flaming jets.
They were squat, misshapen vessels, circling down like vultures,
hissing, screeching, landing with a grinding crash in the tall thicket
near the place where the city had stood. Ravdin's signal had guided
them in, and the Hunters had seen them, standing on a hilltop above the

demolished amphitheater. Men had come out of the ships, large men
with cold faces and dull eyes, weapons strapped to their trim uniforms.
The Hunters had blinked at them, unbelieving, with their weapons held
at ready. Ravdin and Dana were seized and led to the flagship.
As they approached it, their hearts sank and they clasped hands to
bolster their failing hope.
The leader of the Hunters looked up from his desk as they were thrust
into his cabin. Frankle's face was a graven mask as he searched their
faces dispassionately. The captives were pale and seemed to cringe
from the pale interrogation light. "Chickens!" the Hunter snorted. "We
have been hunting down chickens." His eyes turned to one of the
guards. "They have been searched?"
"Of course, master."
"And questioned?"
The guard frowned. "Yes, sir. But their language is almost
unintelligible."
"You've studied the basic tongues, haven't you?" Frankle's voice was as
cold as his eyes.
"Of course, sir, but this is so different."
Frankle stared in contempt at the fair-skinned captives, fixing his eyes
on them for a long moment. Finally he said, "Well?"
Ravdin glanced briefly at Dana's white face. His voice seemed weak
and high-pitched in comparison to the Hunter's baritone. "You are the
leader of the Hunters?"
Frankle regarded him sourly, without replying. His thin face was
swarthy, his short-cut gray hair matching the cold gray of his eyes. It
was an odd face, completely blank of any thought or emotion, yet
capable of shifting to a strange biting slyness in the briefest instant. It

was a rich face, a face of inscrutable depth. He pushed his chair back,
his eyes watchful. "We know your people were here," he said suddenly.
"Now they've gone, and yet you remain behind. There must be a reason
for such rashness. Are you sick? Crippled?"
Ravdin shook his head. "We are not sick."
"Then criminals, perhaps? Being punished for rebellious plots?"
"We are not criminals."
The Hunter's fist crashed on the desk. "Then why are you here? Why?
Are you going to tell me now, or do you propose to waste a few hours
of my time first?"
"There is no mystery," Ravdin said softly. "We stayed behind to plead
for peace."
"For peace?" Frankle stared in disbelief. Then he shrugged, his face
tired. "I might have known. Peace! Where have your people gone?"
Ravdin met him eye for eye. "I can't say."
The Hunter laughed. "Let's be precise, you don't choose to say, just
now. But perhaps very soon you will wish with all your heart to tell
me."
Dana's voice was sharp. "We're telling you the truth. We want peace,
nothing more. This constant hunting and running is senseless,
exhausting to both of us. We want to make peace with you, to bring our
people together again."
Frankle snorted. "You came to us in war, once, long ago. Now you
want peace. What would you do, clasp us to your bosom, smother us in
your idiotic music? Or have you gone on to greater things?"
Ravdin's face flushed hotly. "Much greater things," he snapped.
Frankle sat down slowly. "No doubt," he said. "Now understand me

clearly. Very soon you will be killed. How quickly or slowly you die
will depend largely upon the civility of your tongues. A civil tongue
answers questions with the right answers. That is my definition of a
civil tongue." He sat back coldly. "Now, shall we commence asking
questions?"
Dana stepped forward suddenly, her cheeks flushed. "We don't have the
words to express