decently civilized here in Tolindrin, Nalgre. Except for some cramphs I’ve met. As to the other countries to the north, that has to be tested.”
“I was up in Enderli recently.” He hitched his rapier forward. “I can’t say I cared overmuch for ’em. Nice zorcas, though.”
Ready, we moved out. He opened the door onto the stairs and held the key in his hand ready to lock up after us and there stood Fweygo on the top step, a dagger in one of his fists, just about to force the lock.
Instantly the dagger disappeared. Only a couple of Kregen’s smaller moons went scampering past so it was pretty dark. I kept the wide brim of the Vallian hat down over my face.
The Kildoi in his most pleasant voice said: “Your pardon, doms. I have a rendezvous and have lost my key—”
Whether or not he expected a couple of Vallians in a foreign country to believe him I couldn’t guess. Sensible people like to stay out of trouble. Nalgre simply said: “I will lock up after you, dom.”
From the light in the corridor at our backs which threw us into silhouette I could see Fweygo’s face clearly. His trick had rebounded on him. I was confident he did not suspect it was Dray Prescot who stood before him. Our Vallian attire was unmistakable even in silhouette with those wide shoulder wings and breeches and the broad-brimmed hats. He kept his composure remarkably.
“Thank you, dom. But — how do I get out afterward?”
“Why, dom, you must go with Cymbaro’s grace.”
Fweygo had been hoist, as they say in Clishdrin, by his own varter. His handsome face, smooth and polite in the lamplight, smiled. Oh, yes, by Krun! I was getting to know my new comrade better at each stroke of adventure. “Why, thank you again, dom. I am sure I shall find a way out.”
Well, and of course he would! If he didn’t knock the door out he’d knock over anyone who got in his way trompling down the inner staircase. That, of course, would be after he’d sorted me out, no doubt considering he’d once again rescued me from peril.
So, wishing not to attract attention to anyone of our party, I had to say something. What? Would it matter if Nalgre ti Poventer knew that Fweygo and I were acquainted? Perhaps I had become obsessed with secrecy, always plotting subterfuges, wearing disguises. But that must be in my scorpion nature. And, anyway, by Krun, it had saved my hide on innumerable occasions.
I said: “The lady became tired of waiting. She left.”
Nalgre half-turned to give me a quick puzzled glance, so he missed Fweygo’s reaction. The Kildoi shuffled his feet around on the top step, said: “Women! Thank you, dom,” and started off down.
Nalgre’s low laugh was only half amused. “He’s right, by Vox!”
By the time Nalgre had locked up and we reached the alley running past the foot of the stairs, Fweygo had vanished into the shadows. The Maiden with the Many Smiles would be up tonight, and the Twins would add their lustrous pink radiance later on. Nalgre led. He hadn’t sounded overly bitter in his remark about the ladies of Kregen so perhaps that was just a lover’s tiff. Well, and by Mother Diocaster, there are plenty of them on two worlds.
A couple of streets along in the pinkish moonlight we heard a hullabaloo and a rout of people came storming along, all tangled up and bashing away with cudgels and blatterers and dwablatters. Nalgre and I jumped into a conveniently shadowed doorway as the rout hacked and hewed past.
The light showed up the favors, the schturvals plain.
“Khon the Mak’s roughs fighting with Prince Ortyg’s toughs,” commented Nalgre. “For the benefit of Vallia they can break one another’s heads in and to the Ice Floes of Sicce with ’em.”
“Aye. King Tom or Hyr Kov Brannomar are the folk Vallia must deal with.”
The City Guard took its time about sorting out the riot and this made me uneasy. It could be that they’d been bribed. It could simply be that law and order were breaking down in
“I was up in Enderli recently.” He hitched his rapier forward. “I can’t say I cared overmuch for ’em. Nice zorcas, though.”
Ready, we moved out. He opened the door onto the stairs and held the key in his hand ready to lock up after us and there stood Fweygo on the top step, a dagger in one of his fists, just about to force the lock.
Instantly the dagger disappeared. Only a couple of Kregen’s smaller moons went scampering past so it was pretty dark. I kept the wide brim of the Vallian hat down over my face.
The Kildoi in his most pleasant voice said: “Your pardon, doms. I have a rendezvous and have lost my key—”
Whether or not he expected a couple of Vallians in a foreign country to believe him I couldn’t guess. Sensible people like to stay out of trouble. Nalgre simply said: “I will lock up after you, dom.”
From the light in the corridor at our backs which threw us into silhouette I could see Fweygo’s face clearly. His trick had rebounded on him. I was confident he did not suspect it was Dray Prescot who stood before him. Our Vallian attire was unmistakable even in silhouette with those wide shoulder wings and breeches and the broad-brimmed hats. He kept his composure remarkably.
“Thank you, dom. But — how do I get out afterward?”
“Why, dom, you must go with Cymbaro’s grace.”
Fweygo had been hoist, as they say in Clishdrin, by his own varter. His handsome face, smooth and polite in the lamplight, smiled. Oh, yes, by Krun! I was getting to know my new comrade better at each stroke of adventure. “Why, thank you again, dom. I am sure I shall find a way out.”
Well, and of course he would! If he didn’t knock the door out he’d knock over anyone who got in his way trompling down the inner staircase. That, of course, would be after he’d sorted me out, no doubt considering he’d once again rescued me from peril.
So, wishing not to attract attention to anyone of our party, I had to say something. What? Would it matter if Nalgre ti Poventer knew that Fweygo and I were acquainted? Perhaps I had become obsessed with secrecy, always plotting subterfuges, wearing disguises. But that must be in my scorpion nature. And, anyway, by Krun, it had saved my hide on innumerable occasions.
I said: “The lady became tired of waiting. She left.”
Nalgre half-turned to give me a quick puzzled glance, so he missed Fweygo’s reaction. The Kildoi shuffled his feet around on the top step, said: “Women! Thank you, dom,” and started off down.
Nalgre’s low laugh was only half amused. “He’s right, by Vox!”
By the time Nalgre had locked up and we reached the alley running past the foot of the stairs, Fweygo had vanished into the shadows. The Maiden with the Many Smiles would be up tonight, and the Twins would add their lustrous pink radiance later on. Nalgre led. He hadn’t sounded overly bitter in his remark about the ladies of Kregen so perhaps that was just a lover’s tiff. Well, and by Mother Diocaster, there are plenty of them on two worlds.
A couple of streets along in the pinkish moonlight we heard a hullabaloo and a rout of people came storming along, all tangled up and bashing away with cudgels and blatterers and dwablatters. Nalgre and I jumped into a conveniently shadowed doorway as the rout hacked and hewed past.
The light showed up the favors, the schturvals plain.
“Khon the Mak’s roughs fighting with Prince Ortyg’s toughs,” commented Nalgre. “For the benefit of Vallia they can break one another’s heads in and to the Ice Floes of Sicce with ’em.”
“Aye. King Tom or Hyr Kov Brannomar are the folk Vallia must deal with.”
The City Guard took its time about sorting out the riot and this made me uneasy. It could be that they’d been bribed. It could simply be that law and order were breaking down in
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