The World Shuffler by Keith Laumer Read Free Book Online Page A

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    “ Ah-ah,” he reproved. “First you have to row us out to the city.”
    “Yeah.” The hand went up to scratch at a rumpled head of coarse black hair with a sound like a carpenter filing a knot. “There’s just one small problem area there, yer lordship. But maybe I got a solution,” he added more briskly. “But the price will be the silver piece plus a sample o’ the little lady’s favors. I’ll take a little o’ that last on account.” The hand poked at O’Leary as if to brush him aside. He gave it a sharp rap on the knuckles, at which the owner jerked it back and popped the wounded members into his mouth.
    “Ouch!” he said, looking up at O’Leary reproachfully. “That hurt, guy!”
    “It was meant to,” Lafayette said coldly. “If I weren’t in such a hurry, I’d haul you out of there and give you a sound thrashing!”
    “Yeah? Well, you might run into a little trouble there, chief. I’m kind of a heavy guy to haul around.” There was a stir, and the head thrust through the door, followed by a pair of shoulders no wider than a hay rick, a massive torso; on all fours, the owner of the hut emerged, climbed to a pair of feet the size of skate boards, and stood, towering a good seven-foot-six into the damp night air.
    “So O.K., I’ll wait and collect at the other end,” the monster said. “Prob’ly a good idea if I workup a good sweat first anyway. Wait here. I’ll be back in short order.”
    “I got to hand it to you, Lafe,” Swinehild murmured as the giant strode away into the mist. “You don’t let a little beef scare you.” She looked lingeringly after the big man. “Not that he don’t have a certain animal charm,” she added.
    “If he lays a hand on you, I’ll tear his head off and stuff it down his throat!” Lafayette snapped.
    “Hey, Lafe—you’re jealous!” Swinehild said delightedly. “But don’t let it get out of hand,” she added. “I had enough of getting backhanded ears over teakettle every time some bum looks over my architecture.”
    “Jealous? Me? You’re out of your mind.” O’Leary jammed his hands in his pockets and began pacing up and down, while Swinehild hummed softly to herself and twiddled with her hair.
    It was the better part of a quarter of an hour before the big man returned, moving with surprising softness for his bulk.
    “All set,” he called in a hoarse whisper. “Let’s go.”
    “What’s all the creeping around and whispering for?” O’Leary demanded loudly. “What—” With a swift move, the giant clapped a hand as lard as saddle leather across his mouth.
    “Keep it down, Bo,” he hissed. “We don’t want to wake the neighbors. The boys need their sleep, the hours they work.”
    O’Leary squirmed free of the grip, snorting a sharp odor of tar and herring from his nostrils.
    “Well, naturally, I don’t want to commit a nuisance,” he whispered. He took Swinehild’s hand, led her in the wake of their guide down across the mucky beach to a crumbling stone jetty at the end of which a clumsy, flat-bottomed dory was tied up. It settled six inches lower in the water as the big man climbed in and settled himself on the rowing bench. Lafayette handed Swinehild down, gritting his teeth as the boatman picked her up by the waist and lifted her past him to the stern seat.
    “You sit in the front, bub, and watch for floating logs,” the big man said. Lafayette was barely in his place when the oars dipped in and sent the boat off with a surge that almost tipped him over the side. He hung on grimly, listening to the creak of the oarlocks, the splash of small waves under the bow, watching the dock recede swiftly, to disappear into the gathering mist. Twisting to look over his shoulder, he saw the distant city lights, haloed by fog, floating far away across the choppy black water. The damp wind seemed to penetrate his bones.
    “How long will the trip take?” he called hoarsely, hugging himself.
    “Shhh,” the oarsman hissed