Colette du Kane and her "cake of sherbet" rear. A simple set-up made entertaining by immersions in local politics (April 27th marked the anniversary of Magellan's death from some less judicious meddling, by the way) and interesting spins on the usual archetypes-foremost, of course, being Ms. The people must somehow reach the only Humanx outpost thousands of miles away. A botched kidnapping lands a small group of humans on an under-explored planet with low technology and subfreezing climates. It's set within Foster's Humanx universe, but 'Icerigger' works well on its own. Tran-ky-ky and its inhabitants serve mostly as a colorful setting. The book isn't hard science fiction and doesn't really qualify as even a less-refined exploratory speculative book à la Ursula K. And 'Icerigger' and its sequels have got a stay of execution every time. From within my perpetual storage unit, until last month my parent's garage, I've sorted and thinned and considered and, ultimately, piled more and more volumes into donation piles and gained a high stack of nested totes in the process. An amazing feeling by the way-not to brag like some asshole back from a vacation. Currently, for the first time since my growing collection started bumping books sideways and under beds, every book I own is now upright and visible on shelves with room to spare. Nevertheless, this trilogy sparked my imagination, especially the next two parts, which I suspect I'll get to within a few months. I could have done without the borderline furry action, however. Unlike what the cover might sell, the survival aspect isn't too prominent for long, but ice-skating cat warriors were probably the better bet to keep my 15 year old attention. Alan Dean Foster has his own brand of humor, dated but effective, and a straight-forward delivery of an adventure on a foreign ice world. Something went crunch in the distance, behind them.'Icerigger's reputation remains intact, if tarnished, after rereading it for the first time since I was in high school, on the heels of the 'Spellsinger' saga. There was a loud whistle in the sky and it wasn't arrows, and it wasn't the wind. The cry was echoed by dozens of other voices along the wall. "What are they doing now?" he asked anxiously. There seemed to be a lapse in the activity. It was hard to get a true sense of scale at this distance, but the crossbeam of the catapult was many tunes the height of a man. Ethan could see the huge cyclopean arm gradually sinking toward its base. The singing resumed, on a much smaller scale this time. The recoil on that thing must be terrific." ""Throwing out ice anchors," said September, staring into the distance, "and blocking down the skates. A crew of busy nomads began working about the base of the great war engine. The long lines of warriors rolled up their green cables. I've ever seen."īoth singing and machine halted a few minutes later. Hunnar said quietly, "'That's the biggest moydra. After they'd moved another dozen meters closer, the design of the engine they were dragging became clear even to Ethan's untrained eye. They swayed in rhythm to the song, pulling first to the left, then the right, left, then right. haych, chuff!" intoned the straining barbarians, “Haryen abet hayeh chuff. The singing was accompanied by a deep-throated thrumming from smaller versions of the great Margyudan. Ethan could make out individual words now. Four long lines of nomad warriors were harnessed to four thick cables of woven pika-ping. " There.”įar out across the solid sea, a strange object of truly monstrous proportions was moving toward them. As usual, there was only the eternal infernal wind. Listen."Įthan waited, straining to hear something from across the ice. "It has been sounding for several minutes now. "What will they try today?" asked Ethan, aware that he was missing something. Come to think of it, so were those of most of the men-at-arms stationed along the wall. Hunnar joined them, but his eyes were on the ice. "In the universe, my young friend, it's always the familiar sights that shock the most. September put a great hand on his shoulder. " He indicated the ghastly litter on the ice before them. I thought I'd seen quite a bit, but this. "You keeled over so quick-like yesterday you had me worried a second." "How do you feel, young feller?" asked September.
Since every engagement took place in a perpetual deep-freeze, there would be no lingering stink of moldering corpses. Warriors on this world, he reflected, were spared at least one of the great horrors of war. The ice was littered for hundreds of meters in all directions with tiny clumps of fur and wide frozen ponds of dark red.
All one had to do was glance over the harbor wall. It was not necessary to call on the mind, however. It was so beautiful that it was almost impossible to imagine the horror of the previous day. The following morning dawned clear and lovely-and windy.
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