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Zankov twitched his fingers and nodded. He was so suffused with anticipatory glory he could not speak
an unusual condition for him, I judged.
The door opened again I could not see it; but it creaked upon a hinge and a sharp hard voice said:
Jens! Koters! Koteras! Trylon Udo has returned unexpectedly and is calling for
The speaker got no further. At once the people at the meeting started to rise and to gather their cloaks
and weapons and, at that moment, I shifted incautiously, and the pakai struck its string of rings against my
armor.
The sound rang like a carillon.
No wonder, I said to myself fiercely, no wonder I abhor dangling adornments. Flying tassels and trailing
scarves and whirling belts are no fit gear for a fighting man.
Zankov glared up at the curtained mezzanine window.
Up there! he shouted. Quick, you cramphs! Someone spies on us!
He was quick enough on the uptake, I ll give him that.
Right, you nidge, I said under my breath. By the Black Chunkrah! I ll sort you out and damned
quick!
I freed the longsword and prepared to leap down and slice them up a trifle. The thought of settling affairs
with Zankov and with Stromich Ranjal pleased me mightily.
Then and then, by Zair, I hesitated. I, Dray Prescot that wild leem of a fellow, took thought for
events beyond the immediate prospect of a brisk bashing of skulls. My daughter Dayra was expected the
day after tomorrow. Who knew what other villainy these fellows had planned? Far better to wait. Far
better to be the calculating, cool, cunning Dray Prescot who took thought for the future and bided his
time to strike.
So as Zair is my witness the Krozair longsword went snap back into the scabbard and I turned
and ran back the way I had come so stealthily.
Even then it was nip and tuck. But I eluded them and I did not have to essay a single handstroke, which,
I might add, displeased me at the time, for all my good resolutions.
Back over the town stockade I went and avoided all trouble. I found my billet, all paid for, and bedded
down. One day I had to live through without trouble, and then I would see Dayra and bring her out of
this rasts nest.
The last thing I did before I slept was to rip off that damned jangling pakai and stuff it away in my gear.
Confounded unwarrior-like trinket it had nearly botched the whole affair.
Thirteen
The Battle Maidens Squabble
I sat next morning in the early radiance of the Suns of Scorpio polishing up the armor. I had bought a
choice breakfast of vosk rashers and loloo s eggs, swilled down an inordinate amount of good Kregan
tea, chewed a handful of palines, and now, stripped down to a breechclout which was, incidentally, a
normal sober yellow sat companionably with a couple of other mercenaries hard at the task that
would keep us alive on the day of battle.
We spoke in that rapid shorthand of warriors, at ease, knowing our own worth or, at least, they did
and bending diligently to our tasks.
The Rapa paktun s armor had been fashioned from good quality iron with bronze fittings. The breast and
back were molded, and so formed a quality kax, a corselet that covered the trunk and extended in a
graceful curve below the belt and yet afforded free movement to the legs. I retained my own weapons.
The longbow and longsword I kept covered; the other of my weapons excited no untoward comment,
being a Vallian clanxer and a Valkan shortsword, and a rapier and main gauche. The Rapa s spear was
not a quality weapon; but I kept it for the color it afforded.
Nalgre the Shebov worked on his armor on the other side of the blanket. He was the seventh son of his
family and had taken up the mercenary life as a release from farm work. Now he carefully buckled up his
armor, a kax tralkish what on Earth is called alorica segmentata and whistled cheerfully as he
worked.
Dolan the Sling methodically oiled his scaled kax, seeing that each bronze scale was firmly affixed to the
leather. At his right side his sling lay ready to hand. With a leaden lozenge-shaped bullet Dolan fancied his
luck against any archer. But then, as he said, he had not faced a Bowman of Loh.
Although, Jak the Kaktu, he said, we routed a bunch of Undurkers three, four seasons ago when we
were working for the King of Sanderdrin. Quite a dust up, that was.
We re likely to square up to Bowmen of Loh if they don t win over the emperor s guard, said Nalgre.
And damned quick.
Undurkers, I said, rubbing the oiled rag methodically. I had a dust-up with them a while back. Some
Bowmen of Loh did for them, skewered em right through well beyond their range.
Which side were you on?
Well, by Vox, I m here, aren t I?
So you were on the right side.
They laughed. The paktuns of Kregen can see the humor in the situation, when from day to day they may
be victors or slain. It gives them the old zest to life.
A whole day to get through. Forty-eight burs to the day. Fifty murs to the bur. And a Kregan bur is
roughly equal to forty terrestrial minutes. A long time to keep out of mischief for a wild leem of a fellow.
Not that, recently, I d felt much like a leem. Like a calsany, perhaps. And everyone knows what
calsanys do when they get excited. Nalgre and Dolan talked on about the female warriors Battle
Maidens they called them, Jikai Vuvushis and we sent a camp slave for a couple of bottles of parclear
to ease our throats. The suns rolled across the heavens and everything was going splendidly, for these
two like myself were tazll mercenaries, unemployed, determining to enlist with the trylon s regiments or
none. I did not tell them Udo had returned overnight; the information had not yet percolated through.
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