Scorpio Invasion by Alan Burt Akers Read Free Book Online Page A

bent to my sweep and then looked up and used one hand to wave to the shore as the vessel cleared the levee.
    “Remberee, Ornol! Remberee, Xinthe!”
    “Remberee, Drajak!”
    Then I put my back into the sweep and hauled and we glided off into the pungent brown smell of the river.
    The master, Tsien-Ting, a small nervous man with a bad facial blemish, delegated most of the work to his bosun, a hulking Khibil, Pondro the Pin. No sailorman needed to ask what kind of pin that was.
    As the vessel,
Quaynt’s Fortune
, glided down, way could be kept up easily by a few regular strokes from the sweeps. The large square sail was generally only used on long straight reaches running free. There was a set of fore and aft sails to be bent on when the vessel tacked up river. The life was strenuous only episodically. There were no voracious fish or monsters in the river, The River of Glinting Charm, which was mightily fortunate for the Khibil bosun, Pondro the Pin.
    When he was fished out at the end of a boathook, he glared murderously at me.
    What he said I couldn’t have heard said better on any stage throughout Earth or Kregen.
    “I’ll get you for this!”
    All I said was: “Next time don’t try to use your pin on a defenseless head belonging to a fellow half your size.”
    The little Och, the vessel’s cook, who’d caused the trouble, peered fearfully from the open top half of his galley door. I suppose, truth to tell, he was used to being knocked about by Pondro; but, well, that unfortunately is my way, to go interfering between basher and bashee.
    Tsien-Ting bustled up, trying to act with authority, and squeaking like a woflo in a trap.
    I felt annoyance. Remarkably, my irritation was not so much for myself as for the unwanted situation. There was nothing much else I could have done, as I saw it.
    “Back to work, shint!” snapped Tsien-Ting.
    This was quite uncalled for. I ignored him and grasped my sweep to assist us in negotiating the upcoming bend.
    Why can’t I, Dray Prescot, shut my eyes to injustice and petty terror, to the abuse of authority and to the injury of the weak? I can’t; but had I been able to do so I’d have had a smoother life and a few less lumps to show, by Vox!
    Sleeping with one eye open is a knack more or less essential to an adventuring kind of fellow on Kregen. I awoke instantly to the soft footfall and so was able to take Pondro’s ankle in my fist and twist him over. Once more he went into the river. This time it was night. I hesitated. The splash had aroused no one, since everyone was asleep except for the Brokelsh deckhand, Bargray the Tumbs, and he thought the splash was me going overside. So, I hesitated. But I couldn’t.
    So I shouted: “Man overboard!”
    Mind you, I drew the line at diving in after the rast.
    By the time Pondro was fished out
Quaynt’s Fortune
was alive with shouts and curses and lanterns and running feet. Once again Pondro opened his mouth to tell me my exact fate. I looked at him. He shut his mouth, quickly, gulped, and turned away.
    Oh, well, that dreadful Devil Face of Dray Prescot sometimes comes in handy, I suppose.
    All the same, I was not fool enough not to change vessels when the next sizeable town hove up around a wide curving bend. The place looked not too dissimilar from Changwutung at a distance; as is the nature of places, I expected many differences of detail. I was wrong.
    This town of Ternantung was the twin of Changwutung.
    Just about all that the outside world now knew of Walfarg in Loh were its mysterious walled gardens and veiled women. Perhaps, the notion occurred to me, perhaps after the fall of the empire, those were all there were.
    Now it is not my intention to go into great detail concerning my journey down The River of Glinting Charm. There were the smells, rich and fruity close to the shore, surprisingly fresh in midstream. There were the never-ending delights of wild animals, and birds and fish. There were settlements along the banks