Seg the Bowman by Alan Burt Akers Read Free Book Online Page A

not think they would kill you. Life has to be precious to anyone living in the forest and fighting its perils.”
    “You don’t know them — they are rigid as a petrified tree. Blood lines, inheritance, taboos — and I love Bamba.”
    The girl Bamba, cradled in Milsi’s arms, sniffled out: “And I love Diomb.”
    Seg released the arrow grip and stowed the shaft. He was not about to allow himself to become embroiled in the half-comical, half-tragical affairs of these little people of the forest.
    “Well,” he said with some brutality. “I don’t know what you two were doing. But if you can’t go home to your tribes you’ll have to run away. I wish you well.”
    “We were running away and they caught us. Then the toilca came along, and—”
    “The toilca is dead and your respective tribes are trying to bash each other’s brains out. You’d better cut along sharpish.”
    “Oh,” wailed the girl. “Would that Clomba of the Fruit Tree Eternal would aid us now!”
    The pygmy lad, naked save for a bark apron, clutching his blowpipe, stared up at Seg. His face was formed pleasingly, with regular features, and his dark eyes showed a bright intelligence. Just as Seg was telling himself that any eyeball can shine up nicely, that does not mean its owner has any brains at all, Diomb rapped out as though a bottle-cork burst from the neck: “We were running away. We were going to cross the river and seek our fortune. We can come with you. That is excellent.”
     
    “Do what?”
    “Why, boltim, Bamba and me will walk with you. Together we can see the wide world.”
    “Oh, aye!”
    Milsi spoke up and shattered Seg afresh.
    “Oh, yes, Seg! Do let them come.” Then, forgetting for the moment where she was, she added: “I shall take Diomb and Bamba with me. They are very welcome.”
    Seg looked at the Lohvian longbow in his left fist. He shook his head. Then he shoved the bow up onto the peak of his shoulder, snapped it fast, turned about and said, “Very well! Let them come. And you take care of them, my Lady Milsi.”
    She flared up at this, angry, and yet despairing of ever making any man see sense.
    “I shall! Do not fret over that, Seg Segutorio!”

Chapter five
Out of the Snarly Hills
    In the time it took them to march through the forest to the River of Bloody Jaws, Seg was forced to admit to himself that the dinkus, Diomb and Bamba, proved themselves to be a fine addition to the little party. They knew this place, for it was their home. Diomb had only recently gone through the mysteries and ordeals of manhood and emerged as a dinko hunter. Bamba and he were quite clearly intoxicated with each other.
    That was very nice for them — now.
    Seg scowled a bit, and looked loweringly on Milsi, who, for her part, disdained to notice.
    When they heard up ahead the clink and clatter of bottles and glasses, the apparent murmur of happy human voices, Diomb brightened up.
    He was a mischievous fellow. He glanced up sideways at Seg, half-laughing.
    “Ah, Seg, do you hear that? Friends are waiting for us.”
    Seg had enough human tolerance to wait awhile before believing the dinko meant what he said. The sounds reached them from beyond a screen of vegetation, for the forest appeared more open here and they knew by this that they must be nearing the river. The trackways criss-crossed, and not by man but by the increasing number of animals living here.
    “Friends?” said Seg. He decided to play along with Diomb for a time. “They sound as though they are having a good time. And I could do with a wet.”
    “A wet?”
    Seg smiled in his turn. There were so many things these pygmies did not know. Their life was primitive.
    They had a lot to learn.
    “Yes. A drink of something other than water. It sounds as though up there they have plenty of bottles.”
     
    Diomb caught the inflexion in Seg’s voice.
    “Yes, Seg. Bottles. I know of them but have never seen one. They must have some over there.”
    “Well, then, I