[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.“The input data’s just not good enough, and the computer is making all kinds of stress assumptions that are pretty hypothetical.But I think we better fill those tanks at the last minute.”Stern said, “It’s too bad there isn’t a way to strengthen the tanks.”Gordon looked up quickly.“Like what?” he said.“You have an idea?”“I don’t know.Maybe we could fill the etchings with plastic, or some kind of putty.Or maybe we could—”Gordon was shaking his head.“Whatever you do, it has to be uniform.You’d have to cover the entire surface of the tank evenly.Perfectly evenly.”“I can’t see any way to do that,” Stern said.“Not in three hours,” Gordon said.“And that’s what we have left.”Stern sat down in a chair, frowning.For some reason, he was thinking of racing cars.A succession of images flashed through his mind.Ferraris.Steve McQueen.Formula One.The Michelin Man with his rubber tube body.The yellow Shell sign.Big truck tires, hissing in rain.B.F.Goodrich.He thought, I don’t even like cars.Back in New Haven, he owned an ancient VW Bug.Clearly, his racing mind was trying to avoid an unpleasant reality — something he didn’t want to face up to.The risk.“So we just fill the panels at the last minute, and pray?” Stern said.“Exactly,” Gordon said.“That’s exactly what we do.It’s a little hairy.But I think it’ll work.”“And the alternative?” Stern said.Gordon shook his head.“Block their return.Don’t let your friends come back.Get brand new glass panels down here, panels that don’t have imperfections, and set up again.”“And that takes how long?”“Two weeks.”“No,” Stern said.“We can’t do that.We have to go for it.”“That’s right,” Gordon said.“We do.”02:55:14Marek and Johnston climbed the circular stairs.At the top, they met de Kere, who was looking smugly satisfied.They stood once more on the wide battlements of La Roque.Oliver was there, pacing, red-faced and angry.“Do you smell it?” he cried, pointing off toward the field, where Arnaut’s troops continued to mass.It was now early evening; the sun was down, and Marek guessed it must be about six o’clock.But in the fading light, they saw that Arnaut’s forces now had a full dozen trebuchets assembled and set out in staggered rows on the field below.After the example of the first incendiary arrow, they had moved their engines farther apart, so that any fire would not spread beyond one engine.Beyond the trebuchets, there was a staging area, with troops huddled around smoking fires.And at the very rear, the hundreds of tents of the soldiers nestled back against the dark line of the forest.It looked, Marek thought, perfectly ordinary.The start of a siege.He couldn’t imagine what Oliver was upset about.A distinct burning odor drifted toward them from the smoking fires.It reminded Marek of the smell that roofers made.And with good reason: it was the same substance.“I do, my Lord,” Johnston said.“It is pitch.”Johnston’s blank expression conveyed that he, too, did not know why Oliver was so upset.It was standard practice in siege warfare to lob burning pitch over the castle walls.“Yes, yes,” Oliver said, “it is pitch.Of course it is pitch.But that is not all.Do you not smell it? They are mixing something with the pitch.”Marek sniffed the air, thinking Oliver was almost certainly right.When burning, pure pitch had a tendency to go out.Thus pitch was usually combined with other substances — oil, tow or sulfur — to make a more robustly burning mixture.“Yes, my Lord,” Johnston said.“I smell it.”“And what is it?” Oliver said in an accusing tone.“Ceraunia, I believe.”“Also called the ‘thunderbolt stone’?”“Yes, my Lord.”“And do we also employ this thunderbolt stone?”“No, my Lord—” Johnston began.“Ah! I thought as much.”Oliver was now nodding to de Kere, as if their suspicions were confirmed.Clearly, de Kere was behind all this.“My Lord,” Johnston said, “we have no need of the thunderbolt stone.We have better stone.We use pure sulfure.”“But sulfure is not the same.” Another glance at de Kere.“My Lord, it is.The thunderbolt stone is pyrite kerdonienne.When ground fine, it makes sulfure.”Oliver snorted.He paced.He glowered.“And how,” he said finally, “does Arnaut come to have this thunderbolt stone?”“I cannot say,” Johnston said, “but the thunderbolt stone is well known to soldiers.It is even mentioned in Pliny
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]