Read Online A Coven of Vampires by Brian Lumley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brian Lumley
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a lad with no friends here, save me.”
“I wear loincloth and sandals, too,” Tarra pointed out. “Are they also lusted after?”
“Likely,” Stumpy Adz nodded. “This is Chlangi, lad, not Kliihn. Anyway, I’ve pillow for your head, cabbage tops and shade for the beast, food and drink for your belly. Deal?”
“What’ll I pay?”
“Blanket’ll do. It’s cold here nights. And as Fregg pointed out: you’ve your camel to keep you warm.”
Tarra sighed but nodded. “Deal. Anyway, I wasn’t planning on leaving till tonight. Fregg’s invited me to call on him in his tower counting house. I have to get my sword back—what’s left of it.”
“Heard that, too,” said Stumpy. “Huh!”
He led the way into a shady alley and from there through a heavy oak door into a tiny high-walled yard, planked over for roof with a vine bearing grapes and casting cool shade.
“Tether your beast there,” said Stumpy. “Will he do his business?”
“Likely,” said Tarra. “He doesn’t much care where he does it.”
“Good! A treat for the grapevine….”
Tarra looked about. Halfway up one wall was a wooden platform, doubtless Stumpy’s bed (Tarra’s for the rest of the day), and behind the yard a low, tiled hovel built between the walls as if on afterthought. It might one time have been a smithy; cooking smells now drifted out of open door.
“Gulla,” Stumpy called. “A meal for two—and a skin, if you please. Quick, lass, we’ve a visitor.”
Tarra’s ears pricked up. “Lass”? If not the old lad’s wife, then surely his daughter. The latter proved to be the case, but Tarra’s interest rapidly waned. Gulla Adz was comely enough about the face but built like a fortress. Tarra could feel his ribs creaking just looking at her. Looking at him ,as she dished out steamy stew in cracked plates atop a tiny table, she made eyes and licked her lips in a manner that made him glad his bed was high off the ground.
Stumpy chased her off, however, and as they ate Tarra asked:
“Why the ‘huh!’ ,eh? Don’t you think Fregg’ll give me back my sword, then?”
“His own, more likely—between your ribs! No, lad, when Fregg takes something it stays took. Also, I fancy he makes his own plans for leaving, and sooner rather than later. I’d make book we’re kingless within a week. And there’ll be no share out, that’s for sure! No, this is just what Fregg’s been waiting for. Him and his bullies’ll take the lot—and then he’ll find a way to ditch them, too.”
“Why should he want to leave?” asked Tarra Khash, innocently. “It seems to me he’s well set up here.”
“He was, he was,” said Stumpy. “But—” and he told Tarra about the Lamia Orbiquita and her assumed demise.
Hearing all, Tarra said nothing—but he fingered twin sores on his neck, like the tiny weeping craters of mosquito bites. Aye, and if what this old lad said about lamias were true, then he must consider himself one very fortunate Hrossak. Fortunate indeed!
“That treasure,” he said when Stumpy was done, “was mine. I’ll not leave without a handful at least. And I want that sword-hilt, with or without its jewels! Can I buy your help, Stumpy, for a nugget of gold? Or perhaps a ruby big enough to fit the socket behind your eye-patch?”
“Depends what you want,” said Stumpy carefully.
“Not much,” Tarra answered. “A good thin rope and grapple, knowledge of the weakest part of the city’s wall, details of Fregg’s palace guards—how many of them, and so forth—and a plan of quickest route from palace, through city, to outer wall. Well?”
“Sounds reasonable,” the oldster nodded, his good eye twinkling.
“Lastly,” said Tarra, “I’ll want a sharp knife, six-inch blade and well balanced.”
“Ah! That’ll cost you an extra nugget.”
“Done!—if I make it. If not…you can keep the camel.” They shook on it left-handed, and each felt he’d met a man to be trusted—within
“I wear loincloth and sandals, too,” Tarra pointed out. “Are they also lusted after?”
“Likely,” Stumpy Adz nodded. “This is Chlangi, lad, not Kliihn. Anyway, I’ve pillow for your head, cabbage tops and shade for the beast, food and drink for your belly. Deal?”
“What’ll I pay?”
“Blanket’ll do. It’s cold here nights. And as Fregg pointed out: you’ve your camel to keep you warm.”
Tarra sighed but nodded. “Deal. Anyway, I wasn’t planning on leaving till tonight. Fregg’s invited me to call on him in his tower counting house. I have to get my sword back—what’s left of it.”
“Heard that, too,” said Stumpy. “Huh!”
He led the way into a shady alley and from there through a heavy oak door into a tiny high-walled yard, planked over for roof with a vine bearing grapes and casting cool shade.
“Tether your beast there,” said Stumpy. “Will he do his business?”
“Likely,” said Tarra. “He doesn’t much care where he does it.”
“Good! A treat for the grapevine….”
Tarra looked about. Halfway up one wall was a wooden platform, doubtless Stumpy’s bed (Tarra’s for the rest of the day), and behind the yard a low, tiled hovel built between the walls as if on afterthought. It might one time have been a smithy; cooking smells now drifted out of open door.
“Gulla,” Stumpy called. “A meal for two—and a skin, if you please. Quick, lass, we’ve a visitor.”
Tarra’s ears pricked up. “Lass”? If not the old lad’s wife, then surely his daughter. The latter proved to be the case, but Tarra’s interest rapidly waned. Gulla Adz was comely enough about the face but built like a fortress. Tarra could feel his ribs creaking just looking at her. Looking at him ,as she dished out steamy stew in cracked plates atop a tiny table, she made eyes and licked her lips in a manner that made him glad his bed was high off the ground.
Stumpy chased her off, however, and as they ate Tarra asked:
“Why the ‘huh!’ ,eh? Don’t you think Fregg’ll give me back my sword, then?”
“His own, more likely—between your ribs! No, lad, when Fregg takes something it stays took. Also, I fancy he makes his own plans for leaving, and sooner rather than later. I’d make book we’re kingless within a week. And there’ll be no share out, that’s for sure! No, this is just what Fregg’s been waiting for. Him and his bullies’ll take the lot—and then he’ll find a way to ditch them, too.”
“Why should he want to leave?” asked Tarra Khash, innocently. “It seems to me he’s well set up here.”
“He was, he was,” said Stumpy. “But—” and he told Tarra about the Lamia Orbiquita and her assumed demise.
Hearing all, Tarra said nothing—but he fingered twin sores on his neck, like the tiny weeping craters of mosquito bites. Aye, and if what this old lad said about lamias were true, then he must consider himself one very fortunate Hrossak. Fortunate indeed!
“That treasure,” he said when Stumpy was done, “was mine. I’ll not leave without a handful at least. And I want that sword-hilt, with or without its jewels! Can I buy your help, Stumpy, for a nugget of gold? Or perhaps a ruby big enough to fit the socket behind your eye-patch?”
“Depends what you want,” said Stumpy carefully.
“Not much,” Tarra answered. “A good thin rope and grapple, knowledge of the weakest part of the city’s wall, details of Fregg’s palace guards—how many of them, and so forth—and a plan of quickest route from palace, through city, to outer wall. Well?”
“Sounds reasonable,” the oldster nodded, his good eye twinkling.
“Lastly,” said Tarra, “I’ll want a sharp knife, six-inch blade and well balanced.”
“Ah! That’ll cost you an extra nugget.”
“Done!—if I make it. If not…you can keep the camel.” They shook on it left-handed, and each felt he’d met a man to be trusted—within
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