John Christopher - Tripods 2 - The City of Gold and Lead

VIP免费

2024-12-23 0 0 211.71KB 82 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

The City of Gold and Lead

by John Christopher

1 Three Are Chosen

One day Julius called a conference of the instructors, and all training was

canceled. The three of us-Henry, Beanpole, and I-decided to use the free time

to explore the upper reaches of the tunnel. So we got picnic rations from the

kitchen and half a dozen big, slow-burning tallow candles, and set off up the

long winding slope from the caves in which we lived.

At first we chattered as we went, hearing our voices echo from the confining

walls of rock, but as our progress became more slogging and arduous we talked

less, conserving our strength. The ancients had made the tunnel to house a

Shmand-Fair-a railway as it had once been called in my own language-and the

metal tracks went up and up, interminably it seemed. The candles gave only a

small and flickering light, but a sure one; there was no wind, not even a

breeze, that might blow them out. We were climbing a mountain, but from the

inside.

I puzzled over this, as I had done before. It was one of countless riddles

left by our forefathers, but more baffling than most and, of course, nearer at

hand. Even with the wonderful machines we knew they had possessed, it must

have taken a tremendous time-years-to hew such a channel through the heart of

this stony giant. For what purpose? A railway leading to a mountain top,

perpetually covered with snow and ice? It made no sense that I could see.

They had been a strange and marvelous people. I had seen the ruins of one of

the great-cities in which they lived . . , with broad avenues that ran for

miles, crumbling buildings still soaring up against the sky, huge shops into

which all the houses of my native village could have been packed, with room

left over. They had moved in ease and splendor about the earth, splendor

beyond measuring, almost beyond understanding. And despite all this, the

Tripods had conquered and enslaved them. How had it happened? We did not know.

We only knew that, except for the handful of us who lived here in the White

Mountains, men did the Tripods' bidding, and did it gladly.

The way in which they kept their domination, on the other hand, was plain

enough. It was done through the Caps, meshes of silvery metal, fitting closely

round the skull and woven into the very flesh of their wearers. Capping took

place in one's fourteenth year, marking the change from child to adult. A

Tripod took you away, and a Tripod brought you back. Those who returned, apart

from the few who cracked under the ordeal and became Vagrants and thereafter

wandered aimlessly from place to place, had had their minds changed and were

free no longer.

We went on, higher and higher, through the tunnel. Occasionally we rested,

easing the ache in our legs, sometimes at places where there were openings

through which one could see out of the mountain side to a vista of more

mountains and cold, deserted snowfields lying in their shadow. If we had

realized how long and arduous the journey would be, I doubt if we should have

embarked on it, but having come so far we pressed on. We found small things-a

button, a carton that said camels and had a picture of a beast like a

humpbacked horse on it, and a scrap of newspaper, printed in the German

language which we were learning, that spoke of incomprehensible things. All

these were more than a hundred years old, we knew, relics from the world

before the Tripods.

At last we reached the cavern where the railway ended. There were stone steps,

leading to a room in what seemed like a palace. Higher still, in a vast wooden

hall, we stared through gigantic windows at a scene of wonder. There were

peaks all round, guarding a valley through which a river ran far into the

distance. But the peaks glistened white, dazzling in sunlight that hurt the

eyes, and the river was a river of ice that yet seemed to flow. Had a king

perhaps lived here-a king who ruled the world, and chose to live on the

world's roof?

But would the hall of a king's palace be filled with small tables, and have

kitchens adjoining it? We explored farther, and found a sign: HOTEL

JUNGFAUJOCH. I knew what a hotel was: a large inn that accommodated travelers.

But here, on a mountain top? The idea was as mysterious as the idea of a royal

palace, and more stupendous. It had not been a king and his courtiers who had

walked through these echoing rooms and looked at the river of ice among the

eternal snows; but ordinary men and women. A strange and marvelous people,

indeed. In those days, I thought, they were all kings and queens.

I gazed out. Nothing changed there, nor had changed in a century. For me, so

much had changed.

Six months earlier I had been an ordinary schoolboy living, as I had always

done, in the village of Wherton, a day's journey by packhorse from Winchester.

My cousin Jack, the companion of my childhood, had already been Capped; and I

was to be Capped the next year, along with Henry, another cousin, but an old

enemy rather than an old friend. After that I would be a man, working as a

man, in due course taking over my father's mill, living in Wherton and at last

dying there, to be buried in the churchyard beside the square-towered church.

It was a pattern of life that everyone took for granted.

Then, one day, Ozymandias came to the village, a Vagrant seemingly, a big,

red-haired, red-bearded man, who sang songs and spoke lines of poetry, and

mixed sense and nonsense when he talked. He sounded me out, and finally

revealed himself and his purpose. He was not a Vagrant, but merely posing as

such so that he could travel without hindrance or suspicion. The Cap he wore

was a false one. He told me the truth about the Tripods, and told me also of

the handful of free un-Capped men who lived far to the south. He asked me if I

would be willing to make a difficult and dangerous journey to join them.

So, with the map and compass he had given me, I left my village. Henry

surprised me while I was making my escape, and I was forced to take him with

me. We crossed the sea together, and in the land called France found a third

Jean-Paul, whom we named Beanpole because he was so tall and thin. Together,

we went south. It was as difficult and dangerous as Ozymandias had promised.

Near the end we fought a battle with a Tripod, and with the help of a weapon

of the ancients that we found in the ruins of one of the great-cities,

destroyed it. And thus came to the White Mountains.

There were eleven of us in the training cadre being prepared for the first

move in the counterattack against our enemies. It was a hard schooling, in

body and mind alike, but we knew a little of the task before us, and how heavy

the odds against success were. The discipline and hardship we had to endure

might not shorten those odds by much, but every bit counted.

For we-or some of us-were to conduct a reconnaissance. We knew almost nothing

of the Tripods, not even whether they were intelligent machines or vehicles

for other creatures. We had to know more before we could hope to fight them

successfully and there was only one way to get that knowledge. Some of us, one

at least; must penetrate into the City of the Tripods, study them, and bring

back information.

The plan was this: the City lay to the north, in the country of the Germans.

Each year some of the newly Capped were brought there to serve the Tripods.

They were chosen in different ways. I had witnessed one such way at the

Chateau de la Tour Rouge, when Eloise, the daughter of the Comte, had been

made Queen of the Tournament. I had been horrified to learn that at the end of

her brief reign she would be taken to be a slave of the enemy, and go gladly,

thinking it an honor.

Among the Germans, it seemed, there were Games each summer, to which young men

came from all over the land. The winners were feasted and made much of, after

which they, too, went to serve in the City. At the next Games, it was hoped,

one of us might win, and gain admission. What would happen after that was

unknown. Anyone who succeeded would have to rely on his wits, both in spying

on the Tripods and in passing on what he had learned. The last part was likely

to be the hardest. Because although scores, perhaps hundreds, went yearly into

the City, not one had ever been known to come out.

One day the snow was melting at the foot of the tunnel where we exercised, and

a week later it lay only in isolated patches, and there was the green of

grass, dotted with purple crocuses. The sky was blue, and sunlight flamed from

the white peaks all round, burning our skins through the thin, pure air.

During a break we lay on the grass and looked down. Figures moved cautiously

half a mile below, visible to us but taking cover from those who might look up

from the valley. This was the first raiding party of the season on its way to

plunder the fat lands of the Capped.

I sat with Henry and Beanpole, a little apart from the rest. The lives of all

those who lived in the mountain were closely knit, but this strand was a more

tightly woven one. In the things we had endured, jealousies and enmities had

worn away and been replaced by true comradeship. The boys in the cadre were

our friends, but the bond between us three was special.

Beanpole said gloomily, "I failed at one meter seventy today." He spoke in

German. We had learned the language but needed to practice it.

I said, "One goes off form. You'll improve again."

"I'm getting worse every day."

Henry said, "Rodrigo's gone off. I beat him comfortably."

"It's all right for you."

Henry had been chosen as a long-distance runner, and Rodrigo was his chief

rival. Beanpole was training for long and high jumping. I was one of two

boxers. There were four sports in all-the other was sprint running-and they

had been arranged to produce a maximum of competitiveness. Henry had done well

in his event from the start. I myself was fairly confident, at any rate as far

as my opponent here was concerned. This was Tonio, a dark-skinned boy from the

south, taller than I and with a longer reach, but not as quick. Beanpole,

though, had grown increasingly pessimistic about his chances.

Henry reassured him, telling him he had heard the instructors saying he was

coming on well. I wondered if it were true or said for encouragement: the

former, I hoped.

I said, "I asked Johann if it had been decided yet how many were to go."

Johann, one of the instructors, was squat and powerful, yellow-haired, with

the look of a bad tempered bull but amiable at heart.

Henry asked, "What did he say?"

"He wasn't sure, but he thought four-the best from each group."

"So it could be us three, plus an extra," Henry said.

Beanpole shook his head. "I'll never do it."

"You will."

I said, "And the fourth?"

"It might be Fritz."

He did seem to be the best of the sprint runners, as far as we could tell. He

was German, and came from a place on the edge of a forest to the northeast.

His chief rival was a French boy, Etienne, whom I preferred. Etienne was

cheerful and talkative; Fritz, tall, heavy, taciturn.

I said, "As long as we all get through."

"You two will," Beanpole said.

Henry leaped to his feet. "There's the whistle. Come on, Beanpole. Time to get

back to work."

The seniors had their own tasks. Some were our instructors; others formed the

raiding parties to keep us supplied with food. There were still others who

studied the few books that had survived from olden days and tried to relearn

the skills and mysteries of our ancestors. Beanpole, whenever he had a chance,

would be with them, listening to their talk and even putting up suggestions of

his own. Not long after we met he had spoken-wildly, I thought-about using a

sort of gigantic kettle to push carriages without the need for horses.

Something like this had been discovered, or rediscovered, here, though it

would not yet work properly. And there were plans for more remarkable things:

making light and heat through something that had been called electricity was

one.

And at the head of all the groups there was one man, whose hands held all the

threads, whose decisions were unquestioned. This was Julius.

He was close to sixty years old, a small man, and a cripple. When he was a boy

he had fallen into an ice crevasse and broken his thigh. It had been set badly

and he walked with a limp. In those days things had been very different in the

White Mountains. Those who lived there had no purpose but survival, and their

numbers were dwindling. It was Julius who thought of winning recruits from the

world outside, from those not yet Capped, and who believed-and made others

believe-that someday men would fight back against the Tripods and destroy

them.

It was Julius, too, who had worked out the enterprise for which we were being

trained. And it was Julius who would make the final decision on which of us

were chosen.

He came out one day to watch us. He was white-haired and red-cheeked, like

most of those who had lived all their lives in this sharp, clear air, and he

leaned on a stick. I saw him, and concentrated hard on the bout in which I was

engaged. Tonio feinted with his left and followed up with a right cross. I

made him miss, hammered a sharp right to his ribs, and, when he came in again,

landed a left to the jaw, which sent him sprawling.

Julius beckoned, and I ran to where he stood. He said, "You are improving,

Will."

"Thank you, sir."

"I suppose you are getting impatient to know which of you will be going to the

Games."

I nodded. "A little, sir."

He studied me. "When the Tripod had you in its grasp-do you remember how you

felt? Were you afraid?"

I remembered. I said, "Yes, sir."

"And the thought of being in their hands, in their City-does that frighten

you?" I hesitated, and he went on. "There are two sides to the choice, you

know. We old ones may be able to judge your quickness and skill of mind and

body, but we cannot read your hearts."

"Yes," I admitted, "it frightens me."

"You do not have to go. You can be useful here." His pale blue eyes looked

into mine. "No one need know if you prefer to stay."

I said, "I want to go. I can bear the thought of being in their hands more

easily than the thought of being left behind."

"Good." He smiled. "And you, after all, have killed a Tripod-something that I

doubt any other human being can claim. It is an asset to have that knowledge

that they are not all-powerful."

"Do you mean, sir . . . ?"

"I mean what I said. There are other considerations. You must go on working

hard, and preparing, in case you are chosen."

Later I saw him talking to Henry. I thought it was probably much the same

conversation as mine had been. I did not ask him, though, and he did not

volunteer anything about it.

During the winter our diet, although adequate, had been very dull, the staple

item dried and salted meat that, whatever was done with it, remained stodgy

and unappetizing. In the middle of April, though, a raiding party brought back

half a dozen black-and-white cows, and Julius decreed that one should be

killed and roasted. After the feast, he spoke to us. When he had been talking

a few minutes, I realized, the excitement almost suffocating me, that this,

almost certainly, was the moment for announcing the names of those who were to

make the attempt at reconnoitering the City of the Tripods.

He had a quiet voice, and I was with the other boys at the far end of the

cave, but his, words were clear. Everyone was listening attentively and in

silence. I glanced at Henry, on my right. In the flickering light, I thought

he looked very confident. My own confidence was ebbing rapidly. It would be

bitter if he went and I were left.

First, Julius talked about the plan in general. For months those in the

training cadre had been training for their task. They would have some

advantage over competitors from the lower lands, because it was known that men

in higher altitudes developed stronger lungs and muscles than those who lived

in the thicker air. But it had to be remembered that there would be hundreds

of competitors drawn from the best athletes all over the country. It might be

that, for all their preparation, not one of our small band would wear a

champion's belt. In that case, they must find their way back to the White

Mountains. We would try again, next year. Patience was as necessary as

determination.

Contestants in the Games must be Capped, of course. That presented no great

difficulty. We had Caps, taken from those killed in forays into the valleys,

which could be molded to fit the skulls of the ones chosen. They would look

like true Caps, but they would not control the mind.

Now to the details: the City of the Tripods lay hundreds of miles to the

north. There was a great river that covered most of that distance. Barges

plied up and down it in trade, and one of these was in the hands of our men.

It would sail to a spot within easy reach of the place where the Games were

held.

Julius paused before going on. It had been decided that three should be

selected from the training cadre. Many things had to be taken into account:

individual skill and strength, the likely level of competition in the event,

the temperament of the person, and his probable usefulness once he had

penetrated the Tripods' stronghold. It had not been easy, but the choices had

been made. Raising his voice slightly, he called, "Stand up, Will Parker."

For all my hopes, the shock of hearing my own name unnerved me. My legs

trembled as I got to my feet.

Julius said, "You have shown ability as a boxer, Will, and you have the

advantage of being small and light in weight. Your training has been with

Tonio, who would be in a heavier class at the Games, and this should help you.

"The doubt we had was about you yourself, You are impatient, often

thoughtless, likely to rush into things without giving careful enough

consideration to what may happen next. From that point of view, Tonio would

have been better. But he is less likely to succeed at the Games, which is our

first concern. A heavy responsibility may rest on you. Can we rely on you to

do your utmost to guard against your own recklessness?" I promised, "Yes,

sir."

"Sit down, then, Will. Stand up, Jean-Paul Deliet."

I think I felt gladder about Beanpole than when my own name was called,

perhaps because I was less confused and had been less optimistic. I had picked

up his own gloom about his chances. So there would be three-the three of us

who had journeyed together before, who had fought the Tripod on the hillside.

Julius said, "There were difficulties in your case, too, Jean-Paul. You are

the best of our jumpers, but it is not sure that you are up to the standard

that will be necessary to win at the Games. And there is the question of your

eyesight. The contraption of lenses you invented or rediscovered, because they

were common among the ancients-is something that passed as an eccentricity in

a boy, but the Capped do not have such eccentricities. Not being allowed to

wear the lenses, you must blunder through a world in which you will see less,

clearly than your fellows. If you get inside the City, you will not perceive

things with the clarity that Will, for instance, would.

"But what you see, you may understand better. Your intelligence is an asset

that outweighs the weakness of your eyes. You could be the most useful in

bringing back to us what we have to know. Do you accept the task?" Beanpole

said, "Yes, sir."

"And so we come to the third choice, which was the easiest." I saw Henry

looking pleased with himself, and was childish enough to feel a little

resentment. "He is the most likely to succeed in his event, and the best

equipped for what may follow."

"Fritz Eger-do you accept?"

I tried to speak to Henry, but he made it plain that he wanted to be left

alone. I saw him again later on, but he was morose and uncommunicative. Then,

the following morning, I happened to go to the lookout gallery, and found him

there.

It was the lowest of the places where openings in the mountain side gave a

view of the outside world. One looked out and down to a rich green valley,

thousands of feet below, in which there were roads like black thread, tiny

houses, pinpoint cattle in miniature meadows. Henry was leaning against the

low wall of rock and turned as I approached. I said awkwardly, "If you want me

to go . . ."

"No." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"I'm . . . very sorry."

He managed a grin. "Not as sorry as I am."

"If we went to see Julius . . . I don't see why there shouldn't be four

instead of three."

"I've already seen him."

"And there's no hope?"

"None. I'm the best of my lot, but they don't t think I stand much chance in

the Games. Perhaps next year, if I keep at it."

"I don't see why you shouldn't try this year."

"I said that, too. He says even three is really too large a party to send out.

So much more chance of being spotted, and more difficult with the barge."

One did not argue with Julius. I said, "Well, you will have a chance next

year."

"If there is a next year."

There would only be a second expedition if this one failed. I thought of what

failure could mean, to me personally. The diminutive valley of fields and

houses and ribboned rivers, on which I had so often looked with longing, was

as sunny as before, but suddenly less attractive. I was staring at it from a

dark hole, but one in which I had come to feel safe.

Yet even in the brush of fear, I felt sorry for Henry. I could have been the

one left behind. I did not think I would have borne it as well, if so.

2 Prisoner in the Pit

We set out in late afternoon, made our way secretly through the nearer valleys

during dusk, and traveled on by moonlight. We did not rest until the sun was

high, and by then we were halfway along the shore of the westerly of the twin

lakes that lay below our stronghold. We hid ourselves on the hillside; behind

and far above us was the glistening white peak from which we had started our

journey. We were tired. We ate, and then slept, exhausted, through the long

hot day.

It was a hundred miles to the point on the river at which we were to join the

Erlkonig. We had a guide-one of the men who knew the country from raiding

parties-who would go with us as far as the barge. We went mostly by night,

resting during the daylight hours.

This was some weeks after the feast, and Julius's announcement. During that

time we had been given further instruction and preparation, starting with

having our hair cropped short and the false Cap molded to fit close to our

skulls. It had been strange and desperately uncomfortable at first, but

gradually I had grown used to this hard helmet of metal. My hair was already

growing through and around the mesh, and we were assured that before the Games

began we should look no different from other boys who had been Capped, in the

first weeks of summer, as they were here. At night we wore bonnets of wool,

because otherwise the cold would strike through the metal, painfully waking

us.

Henry had not been among those who watched us leave the tunnel. I understood

that. I would not have wanted to be there if our situations had been reversed.

My impulse was to resent Fritz, who had taken his place, but I remembered what

Julius had said about needing to curb my rashness. I remembered also that I

had resented what I thought was the greater friendship between Beanpole and

Henry on our journey south, and how I had allowed it to influence me during

our stay at the Chateau de la Tour Rouge.

I was determined not to let anything of that kind happen now, and with this in

mind made a special effort to overcome my animosity and be nice to Fritz. But

there was a poor response to my overtures; he remained taciturn and withdrawn.

I was prepared to resent that, in turn and with more justification, as I saw

it. But I succeeded in bottling up my annoyance. It was a great help that

Beanpole was with us. He and I did most of the talking, when we were in

circumstances where talking did not involve risk. Our guide, Primo, a dark,

burly man, looking clumsy but in fact wonderfully sure-footed, said little

beyond what was necessary in warning and instruction.

A week had been allowed for us to reach the barge, but we covered the distance

in four days. We followed a high ridge, skirting the ruins of one of the

great-cities. These encompassed a bend in the river, which was to be our

thoroughfare. The river came from the east, with the early morning sun

glinting along its length, but here turned and flowed northward. The higher

stretch was empty, as was the part that ran between the sullen humps that had

once been towering buildings, but above that there was traffic - two barges

nosing downriver, perhaps a dozen tied up by the bank at the wharves of a

small town.

Primo pointed down. "One of those will be the Erlkonig. You can find your way

down there on your own?"

We assured him that we could.

"Then I'll be getting back." He nodded briefly. "Good luck to you."

The Erlkonig was one of the smaller barges, some fifty feet in length. There

was nothing special about her; she was just a long, low structure rising a few

feet above the surface of the water, with a partly covered wheel-house aft,

giving the steersman some protection against the elements. She had a crew of

two, both false Capped. The senior of them was called Ulf, a squat, barrel-

chested man in his forties, with a brusque manner and a habit of punctuating

his speech by spitting. I did not like him, the more so after he made a

disparaging remark about my slightness of build. His companion, Moritz, was

about ten years younger and, I thought, ten times pleasanter. He had fair

hair, a thin face, and a warm and ready smile. But there could be no doubt as

to which of them was master: Moritz deferred to Ulf automatically. And it was

Ulf, spitting and grunting at regular intervals, who gave us our instructions

for the voyage. "We're a two-man barge," he told us. "An extra boy is fair

enough-you start 'prentices that way. But any more would draw notice, and I'm

not having it. So you'll take it in turns to work on deck-and when I say work,

boy, I mean it -and the other two will lie below decks and won't come up even

if she's foundering. You've been told the need for discipline, I take it, so I

don't need to go into that. All I want to say is this: I shall give short

shrift to anyone who causes trouble, for whatever reason.

"I know the job you've got to do, and I hope you're up to it. But if you can't

behave sensibly and obey orders on this trip, you're not likely to be any good

later on. So I won't think twice about dropping somebody off who's out of

line. And since I wouldn't want him to float into the wrong harbor and start

people asking questions, I've got a weight of iron to tie his legs to before I

do drop him off.

He cleared his throat, spat, and growled. The last remark, I thought, was

possibly meant to be a joke. But I was not sure of that. He looked quite

capable of carrying out the threat.

He continued. "You've arrived early, which is better than arriving late. We

have a cargo to load yet, and in any case it's known that we're not due off

for another three days. We can leave a day early, but no more. So the first

couple below have got a two-day stint before they see the sky again. Do you

want to draw lots for it?"

I glanced at Beanpole. Two days on deck were vastly preferable to spending the

time below. But there was the possibility of two days confined with the silent

Fritz. Beanpole, his mind presumably working along the same lines, said, "Will

and I will volunteer to stay below."

Ulf looked at me, and I nodded. He said, "Just as you like. Show them where

they can bunk, Moritz."

A problem that had engaged Beanpole as we came down from the hill to the river

bank had been the way in which the barges were propelled. They had no sails,

and these, in any case, would have been of limited value in the confines of a

river. They could go down, of course, easily enough with the current, but how

had they come up to this point against it? As we got nearer, we saw that they

had paddle wheels in their sides. Beanpole was excited by the thought that

there might be some machine, surviving from the days of the ancients, that

moved them.

The truth was disappointing. Each wheel had a treadmill inside, and the

treadmill, on journeys upriver, was worked by donkeys. Trained for the task

when young, they strained steadily forward and their efforts pulled the barge

through the water. It seemed a hard and dreary life, and I was sorry for them,

but they were well looked after by Moritz, who was plainly fond of the beasts.

They were worked very little on the downriver trips, and were pastured

whenever there was an opportunity. They were in a field not far from the river

bank now, and would stay there till it was time for the Erlkonig to move on.

Until they came aboard, Beanpole and I stayed in their small stables, with the

smell of donkey and fodder mixing with the smells of old cargoes.

The cargo this time was wooden clocks and carvings. The people who lived in

the great forest east of the river made these, and they were shipped downriver

to be sold. They had to be loaded with care because of their fragility, and

men came aboard the barge to see to this. Beanpole and I hid behind the bales

of hay that were kept for the donkeys, and did our best to stay quiet. Once, I

could not stop myself from sneezing, but luckily they were talking and

laughing loudly enough not to hear it.

But it was a relief when the two days were up and, in the early morning, the

barge cast off and moved out into the river. The donkeys worked their

treadmill-two at a time, with one resting -and Beanpole and I drew straws for

who took Fritz's place on deck. I won, and went up to a dark, blowy day, with

a wind from the north that carried occasional gusts of rain. Yet the air was

light and fresh, after my confinement below, and there were many things to be

seen on the river and around it. Westward there was a great fertile plain with

people working in the fields. To the east the hills stood up, with the black

clouds pressing down over their wooded crests. I did not have much time,

though, to admire the scenery. Ulf called me and made me get a bucket of

water, a brush, and a handful of yellow, soft soap. The decks, he observed

truthfully enough, had not been scrubbed for some weeks. I could make myself

useful by remedying that.

The progress of the Erlkonig was steady, but not fast. In the evening, before

it was dark, we tied up on a long island where another barge was already

moored. This was one of a number of staging posts that apparently ran the

five-hundred-mile length of the river. Moritz explained to me that they were

set a distance apart, which was calculated as a minimum day's haul upriver.

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

TheCityofGoldandLeadbyJohnChristopher1ThreeAreChosenOnedayJuliuscalledaconferenceoftheinstructors,andalltrainingwascanceled.Thethreeofus-Henry,Beanpole,andI-decidedtousethefreetimetoexploretheupperreachesofthetunnel.Sowegotpicnicrationsfromthekitchenandhalfadozenbig,slow-burningtallowcandles,andseto...

展开>> 收起<<

John Christopher - Tripods 2 - The City of Gold and Lead.pdf

共82页,预览17页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

John Christopher - Tripods 2 - The City of Gold and Lead

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: