Free Hard-Luck Diggings: The Early Jack Vance, Volume One by Jack Vance

this place important, then you not look other place. We kill, new man come, he think this place important.”
    Landry muttered, “Do you get what he’s driving at?”
    Root said slowly, “I don’t know for sure.” He addressed the Dicantrop. “We don’t care about your secrets. You’ve no reason to hide things from us.”
    The native jerked his head. “Then why do you come here? You look for secrets.”
    Barbara’s voice came from behind. “What is your secret? Diamonds?”
    The native jerked his head again. Amusement? Anger? His emotions, unearthly, could be matched by no earthly words. “Diamonds are nothing—rocks.”
    “I’d like a carload,” Landry muttered under his breath.
    “Now look here,” said Root persuasively. “You let us out and we won’t pry into any of your secrets. It was wrong of us to break in and I’m sorry it happened. We’ll repair the damage—”
    The Dicantrop made a faint sputtering sound. “You do not understand. You tell other men—pyramid is nothing. Then other men look all around for other thing. They bother, look, look, look. All this no good. You die, everything go like before.”
    “There’s too much talk,” said Landry viciously, “and I don’t like the sound of it. Let’s get out of here.” He pulled out Root’s gun. “Come on,” he snapped at Root, “let’s move.”
    To the natives, “Get out of the way or I’ll do some killing myself!”
    A rustle of movement from the natives, a thin excited whimper.
    “We’ve got to rush ’em,” shouted Landry. “If they get outside they can knock us over as we leave. Let’s go!”
    He sprang forward and Root was close behind. Landry used the gun as a club and Root used his fists and the Dicantrops rattled like cornstalks against the walls. Landry erupted through the hole. Root pushed Barbara through and, kicking back at the natives behind him, struggled out into the air.
    Landry’s momentum had carried him away from the pyramid, out into a seething mob of Dicantrops. Root, following more slowly, pressed his back to the granite. He sensed the convulsive movement in the wide darkness. “The whole colony must be down here,” he shouted into Barbara’s ear. For a minute he was occupied with the swarming natives, keeping Barbara behind him as much as possible. The first ledge of granite was about shoulder height.
    “Step on my hands,” he panted. “I’ll shove you up.”
    “But—Landry!” came Barbara’s choked wail.
    “Look at that crowd!” bit Root furiously. “We can’t do anything.” A sudden rush of small bony forms almost overwhelmed him. “Hurry up!”
    Whimpering she stepped into his clasped hands. He thrust her up on the first ledge. Shaking off the clawing natives who had leapt on him, he jumped, scrambled up beside her. “Now run!” he shouted in her ear and she fled down the ledge.
    From the darkness came a violent cry. “Root! Root! For God’s sake—they’ve got me down—” Another hoarse yell, rising to a scream of agony. Then silence.
    “Hurry!” said Root. They came to the far corner of the pyramid. “Jump down,” panted Root. “Down to the ground.”
    “Landry!” moaned Barbara, teetering at the edge.
    “Get down!” snarled Root. He thrust her down to the white sand and, seizing her hand, ran across the desert, back toward the station. A minute or so later, with pursuit left behind, he slowed to a trot.
    “We should go back,” cried Barbara. “Are you going to leave him to those devils?”
    Root was silent a moment. Then, choosing his words, he said, “I told him to stay away from the place. Anything that happens to him is his own fault. And whatever it is, it’s already happened. There’s nothing we can do now.”
    A dark hulk shouldered against the sky—Landry’s ship.
    “Let’s get in here,” said Root. “We’ll be safer than in the station.”
    He helped her into the ship, clamped tight the port. “ Phew! ” He shook his head. “Never thought it