Captain Future 25 - Moon of the Unforgotten (January 1951) Read Free

said, “I will not stop you. I will only tell you this, that no man nor woman has yet been harmed nor will be harmed — but that he who comes in search of death shall surely find it.”
    “I shall remember,” Curt said and began again to walk forward against the crowd, with Otho close beside him.
    The ranks held unbroken, the rows of silent hostile faces, until he was almost touching them. Then the old man raised his hand and let it fall again in a gesture of finality. The crowd broke and the way was open. Curt passed on and behind him the men vanished one by one into the shadows again, like old leaves caught by the wind and whirled away.
    Curt and Otho entered the Inn of the Three Red Moons.
    The common room was large, with a vaulted roof of stone, black as though carved from jet. Lights flared in the corners and a score of men sat around antique massive metal tables. They glanced at the two strangers, then ignored them.
    Curt and Otho sat down in an empty place and presently a dark girl came and brought them wine and slipped away again.
    They sipped the strong spicy brown liquid. They might have been no more than two spacemen off from the port for a night’s pleasure in old Europolis. And yet they knew that eyes watched them, that the inn was too quiet. Captain Future’s muscles quivered with anticipation and Otho’s gaze was very bright.
    Presently Otho said in a language not likely to be understood, “That young chap at the next table hasn’t taken his eyes off us since we came in.”
    “I know.” The dark fierce young face and hungry glance were only too obviously turned toward the strangers. Curt thought that if anything happened it would be men like this they would have to deal with, men still free of the withering taint of age that seemed to overtake the Europans in their prime.
    He beckoned to the girl again. “We’re minded to take a ride into the hills,” he said. “Can we hire mounts here?”
    The girl’s face was expressionless. “That is Shargo’s province.”
    “And where may we find Shargo?”
    “Through that passageway. The paddocks are behind the inn.”
    Curt laid a coin on the table and rose. “Come on, Otho, it’s getting late.”
    They crossed the common-room and entered the passage. Without seeming to notice, Curt saw that the young man who had watched them left swiftly by the front door and that the others bent together in a sudden murmur of guarded talk.
    The girl glanced after them. Her face held bitter resentment.
    The passage was long and shadowy. They traversed it swiftly, hearing nothing to warn them of any danger. At its end it opened into a court containing ruined outbuildings and a stone-walled paddock in good repair. The wall was high, for the Europan beasts are good jumpers, and the gate was of iron bars.
    A man came toward them from one of the ruined sheds. He was old and not nimble. He wore the leather tunic of a hostler and it was not even clean. But still there was about him the same look that Curt had seen before, the look of pride and inward vision, as though he saw the flaunt of silken banners in the wind and heard the trumpets sounding far away.
    Captain Future repeated his request for two mounts.
    He had expected refusals, at the least arguments and evasions. There were none. The old man shrugged and answered. “You will have to bridle them yourselves. In the day there is a young man here to hold the brutes and rein them — but the fools who wish to ride at night must catch their own.”
    “Very well,” said Curt. “Give us the halters.”
    The old man produced two arrangements of leather straps, bitted with iron. “Get them by the combs,” he grunted, “and watch their forefeet.”
    He led the way to the paddock gate.
    Curt looked around. The court was empty. It was very still. Otho whispered, “What are they waiting for?”
    “Perhaps they want us clear of the city,” Curt answered. Another disappearance in the shadowy hills would be preferable from