Talons of Scorpio by Alan Burt Akers Page A

majister.”
    “Congratulations. He looks likely.”
    “A sight too likely at times. But — the argenter!”
    “Aye, well. I am on passage for Port Marsilus. I can tell you that I and my comrades over in
Tuscurs Maiden
have a mission to burn temples of an evil cult. Pray that cult never sets foot in Vallia. It has tried and we have rooted it out. This affects all the peoples of Paz.”
    He spread his hands. “I and all my people here in
Ovvend Opandar
are at your disposal, majister.”
    I nodded. “It is a temptation. You have a first-class command, and if the lads are anything like Wersting Rogahan, they are a fearsome bunch. But — I think not, Insur. Your duties lie elsewhere.”
    He looked disappointed, for he, like many a man and woman of Kregen, well knew that if they followed me they’d get into scrapes and adventures enough to last two lifetimes. I managed a farcical kind of smile.
    “The Shanks, Insur, the everlasting damned Shanks. There will be fighting enough and to spare when they arrive.”
    His eyebrows went up.
    “Oh, yes, my friend. They are on the way to invade our lands. We have some tidying up to do first before they get here.”
    “Do you know where and when they expect to make landfall?”
    “I wish I did. I know only that a vast fleet is on the way.”
    A knock rapped discreetly on the paneled door. Insur did not look annoyed, as a lesser man might well have done.
    “Yes?”
    “A Khibil from the Pandahem argenter demands to see you, captain. Demands, no less.”
    The voice beyond the door betrayed amusement.
    I sighed.
    “Time I was gone, Insur. That’ll be a vastly intemperate Khibil whose acquaintance I have the honor to claim. Perhaps if you just tell him that Vallia and Tomboram are allies, ask him to convey your respects to Kov Pando Marsilus na Bormark, and then get rid of him, the quicker we can all get on with our jobs.”
    “If he’s been long in your company, majister, he is likely to demand damages, recompense, an apology.”
    “I’m sure you can accommodate him.”
    Insur did not smile; but his nod was of the thoughtful variety, betokening a careful estimation of what he could get away with in dealing with an intemperate Khibil who was the friend of the emperor.
    Insur opened the door. There was much we had not spoken of; but Pompino had effectively put an end to deliberations. I bid Insur remberee, and slipped quickly up on deck.
    The two vessels rode close, their yards almost interlocking. I cocked my head up. Like a monkey up the ratlines I went and so out along a yard and leaped for
Tuscurs Maiden’s
main yard and so down to her deck.
    Cap’n Murkizon regarded me as one might regard a ghost.
    “Jak! We thought you done for, for sure! You are not broken from the ib?”
    “No, Cap’n Murkizon. I am no ghost.”
    “By the hairy black warts of the Divine Lady of Belschutz! Right heartily glad to see you!” He seized my hand and pumped away as though extinguishing a conflagration. Others came up. Pompino was not among them.
    Larghos the Flatch said: “We saw the finny back of a disgusting Styrorynth. Then we saw blood. And yet — you live!”
    “The Vallians hauled me out.”
    Captain Linson, master of
Tuscurs Maiden
and mindful of responsibilities, congratulated me on a miraculous escape, and then added: “Here comes Horter Pompino. He looks pleased.”
    Pompino leaped onto the deck, hitching his sword out of the way. He brushed up his whiskers in a gesture that told us — or, at least me — that he was feeling very pleased with himself.
    “It was all a mistake,” he said, strutting up. “The moment I spoke to their captain he understood. We are to proceed at once.”
    “What, Pompino,” I could not forbear from prodding. “And did he offer an apology?”
    “I did not ask for one, Jak. Besides, he had his damned varters swung in my direction. Ugly, those artillery pieces of Vallia. Damned ugly.”
    I did not laugh.
    Then he extended his hand, palm