Roadmarks (17 page)

In a mountain fastness in C Eleven Abyssinia, Timyin Tin regarded the lovers.

Pressing close beside him, Chantris ran a dark pinion over the bandaged head and back of the tyrannosaurus.

"Poor dear. That's better now, isn't it?"

The tyrannosaurus moaned softly and leaned against her.

"Thank you for the use of this delightful bower," she told Mondamay, who had helped to dig them from the ruins of Chadwick's palace, "and you, little man, for assisting us with transportation."

Timyin Tin bowed deeply.

"To be of service to a dragon of Bel'kwinith is almost too great an honor for this one to bear," he replied. "I wish you every joy in this place of your liking."

The tyrannosaurus grunted several times. The dragon laughed and caressed him.

"He's not much on brains," she confided. "But what a body!"

"I am pleased that you are pleased," said Mondamay. "We will leave you to your bliss now, for I must seek along the Road after my own love. This human destroyer has offered to assist me. After that, we will make pots and grow flowers. Timyin Tin
—
if you are ready, come mount my back."

"You might," said Chantris, blowing a small spiral of pale smoke, "check around the last exit to Babylon near the sign of the blue ziggurat. We dragons have ways of possessing peculiar information."

"I thank you for that," said Mondamay as Timyin Tin climbed onto his back and grasped his shoulders.

They rose into the air, bellows and shrieks of laughter filling the valley below them.

In a dirt-floored adobe building in Ur, Red, Leila and Randy, garbed in native garments, sat drinking the local brew from clay pots. A swarthy, stocky man, similarly clothed, approached.

"Randy?"

They looked up.

"Toba!" Randy said. "I owe you a drink. Sit down. You remember Leila. Do you know my father. Red Dorakeen?"

"Sort of," said Toba, shaking hands. "Your father? My, my!"

"What are you doing in Ur?"

"I'm from these parts originally, and I'm between jobs just now. Thought I'd come back and visit the folks and set up some more work for myself."

He nodded toward the corner, where several burlap sacks leaned against the walls.

"What sort of work?" Red asked, lowering his crock and wiping his mouth.

"Oh, about sixty Cs up the Road I'm an archaeologist. Every now and then I come back to bury a few things. Then I go forward and dig them up again. I've already written the paper on this batch, actually. It's a pretty interesting piece on cultural diffusion. I've got some really nice artifacts from Mohenjo-Daro this time around."

"Isn't that
—
uh
—
sort of cheating?" Randy asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Planting things that way
—
You're messing up the archaeological record."

"Why, no. As I said, I am from here. And they'll really be six thousand years old when I discover them."

"But won't you give people a distorted idea about Ur and Mohenjo-Daro?"

"I don't think so. That guy I was drinking with over in the corner is from Mohenjo-Daro. Met him at the 1939 World's Fair. I've done a lot of business with him since."

"It's a very
—
peculiar
—
occupation," Randy observed.

Toba shrugged.

"It's a living," he said. "I'm pleased to see you're still alive, Red."

Red smiled.

"It's an occupation," he said. "As a matter of fact, we were just discussing it . . . "

Somewhere, the Red Baron and Saint-Exupéry were going at it over the French countryside. Joan saw their forms in the sky, like battling crucifixes . . .

A small man braked his black Volkswagen when he saw the blue pickup truck turn over and begin to burn. He watched for a time, then continued on . . .

Alone, important and wise, the great dragons drift above Bel'kwinith, dreaming roadmaps.

The messenger collapsed on the steps of the Acropolis. He delivered the news from Marathon before he died.

Roger Zelazny was born in Ohio, began writing at age twelve, holds degrees from Western Reserve and Columbia, has been a professional writer since 1962, is married, and lives in New Mexico with his wife Judy and sons Devin and Trent. He is the author of eighteen novels and four story collections. He is a three-time winner of the Science Fiction Achievement Award ("Hugo"), has recieved the Science Fiction Writers of America Nebula Award on three occaisions, the French Prix Apollo once, and has had one book chosen by the American Library Association as a Best Book for Young Adults. His works have been translated into twelve foreign languages and have been dramatized on stage, screen and radio.

Roger worked for seven years as a federal civil servant before quiting to write full-time. He is a past secretary-treasurer of the Science Fiction Writers of America. His best-known books are probably Lord of Light, Doorways in the Sand, and his five-volume Amber series. He speaks often to campus audiences. He is currently working on a full-length animated film "involving elements of American Indian mythology."