John Rackham Read Online Free Page B

steady!"
    Jack released the chin-strap, and Jasar
sighed in relief, said something that made no kind of sense at all. Amazed,
Jack pulled the helmet clear, held it out to Jasar. "What did you say
then?" he demanded, and the little man grinned tightly, spoke again, and
once more it was nothing but an outlandish garble of noises. Then he slid the
helmet deftly over his head, snapped the strap into place, and grinned again.
    "That's better. Understand me now,
eh?"
    "I
hear what you say, yes. But I do not understand, at all."
    "I can't say I blame you, at that. Ill
tell you, gladly, what actually happens, but don't ask me how it's done. That's
not my field. In the war that I fight there are many nations joined together in
a common cause against a common enemy. We all speak our own ways. Is that something
strange to you?"
    "No,"
Jack admitted. "I have heard that Frenchmen talk in a way we do not. Earl
Dudley, and indeed all the barons and the Court, so I have heard, are able to
talk that speech, and understand it Some , indeed, can
understand the speechmaking of the infidel Saracen!"
    "You're
no stranger to different languages, that's the point. And it's obvious, isn't
it, that you can't work very well with a man, if you can't understand what he
says, right? So our ... scientists—wizards
to you, I imagine— managed to design a computing circuit, a kind of brain, that
analyzes the concept and vocal pattern frequencies of any speech, given a
sufficient sample, and converts one to the other." Jack must have looked
as blank as he felt, for the little man sighed, hunched his shoulders. "I
can't put it any simpler. It hears any humanoid speech and translates it into
mine, then converts my speech back into the other, which is transmitted from
here," and he touched the forehead part of the helmet. "No? Never mind; that's what happens. And I smell something
exceedingly good!" He swung his legs to the floor, stood, turned to look
where Widow Fairfax was stirring and sniffing. "Coronas and comets!"
he breathed. "I think this is one for the record log. A
cooking pot, over an open fire!"
    His
hostess turned an apologetic smile on him. "I regret it is but thin fare,
sir." She sighed. "A few scraps of pork to a great deal of grain and
vegetables. And seasoned by an herb or two. But it
will warm you, and fill you, too, if you take bread with it. My own bake, even
if I say it myself. But ... I am remiss with my manners. I should ask if you are well now? "
    "Very
well, I thank you, madam. It was nothing but a shock and upset in my insides,
which is all settled now. I am exceedingly grateful to you for your kindness in
letting me rest here. And, if you'll allow, I can add something to the fare you
are preparing. Would you come with me, Jack, help me carry?"
    "Carry what?"
Jack demanded. "And from where?"
    "Be
patient." Jasar made a little chuckle. "You're having a bad time
with so many marvels in one day, I know that, but hold on tight to just one
thing. There is no harm to you in any of it. None at all. Excuse us, Widow Fairfax; this will take only a little while. Keep that pot
hot."
    He
led the way out of doors into the afternoon sunshine, found his way around the
cottage and back to where his ship hovered patiently by the fence, Jack following
uneasily.
    "You want me to go in
that thing7'*
    "After me. Jack. As I said, there's nothing to
fear."
    It
was easily said, but Jack's whole inside cringed at the prospect, the mere idea
of going into that silver-rod flying cage with its winking fires, and its
skin-prickling presence. Jasar strode up the gangway. Jack set his foot on it
fearfully, stared at the dark doorway ahead. It was an eight-sided patch just
like all the rest of thé device, and so small that he had to stoop and huddle
himself in order to get through. The air inside had a curious tang that
reminded him of the aftermath of a thunderbolt. But after a moment to adjust
to the dimmer, different light, he saw that the "ship" was very