Read Online Fall of the White Ship Avatar by Brian Daley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brian Daley
Ads: Link
adjusting an ill-fitting outfit borrowed from the late Plantos. Since the Whelk offered no auto valet services, Alacrity had showed Floyt how to arrange the suit under his mattress for a very passable prison press. Floyt had shown apprehension on discovering the Golem's huge clothes; Alacrity dismissed them, happy to have a bunk with room to spare, even if it did still smell of Old Four Smokes Wallop.
"Sure I am, but everybody thinks we're on Earth, m'friend. Not only that, a lot of folks think we look like those illustrations on Tula's books: body builders with perfect hair and eye makeup. Anyway, who could recognize us from the Camarilla hearings? We were behind closed doors just about all the time, besides which Spica and Earth and the Camarilla probably don't mean much to these people. But still, you can wait here in the Whelk if you'd rather."
"I'd as soon open my wrists."
Windfall's starport was small and looked more like a campus or park. The customs people were polite but very thorough in searching the two for contraband. Two-day tourist visas were approved without delay.
Floyt scanned the applicable rules, restrictions, and penalties. For a bucolic sort of place, Windfall seemed oddly obsessed with long terms at hard labor. He and Alacrity converted the last of their cash into local currency and walked out under the red-gold light of Cornucopia, Windfall's primary.
Alacrity stopped to make a quick call to Lord Marcus Perlez, with Floyt looking on from the side in the little public commo studio. Floyt was relieved to see the cost of the call was low.
The call went through and the projector showed them a life-size image of a woman standing by a commo terminal configured to look like a nostalgie de le juquebox pedestal.
"Thermostat alert," Alacrity murmured. "Meltdown imminent!" Floyt clucked angrily and knuckled him in the back.
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...y%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (35 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:12
[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR
But she was special to look at, a toothsome size nine who was all legs and lush curves, tawny skin, and eerily transluscent blue eyes. She was barefoot, wearing an ensemble of burgundy-color glowtulle: wimple, loin bunting, forearm plaits, and thigh-high gaiters. Between her breasts hung a huge, faceted Lillith's eye on a fine silver chain.
They devoured her with their stares; she gave them a look of resigned good humor. "What do you wish, please?"
Before Alacrity could pounce on the line, Floyt nudged him again. "To talk to Lord Marcus Perlez,"
Alacrity supplied. "Tell him Lazlo Twill wants to catch up on old times."
She put them on hold and her image disappeared from the tiny public studio. Floyt realized his mouth was open and shut it. "Lazlo Twill?"
"I'll explain later."
"If you don't, I'll start calling you that."
A second later a lean, oldish man appeared on the screen. He had stringy, sinewy lines to his face, a ram's-horn handlebar mustache, and great, full sideburns. His smile showed what looked like too many teeth, like chalk tombstones. "Well, well, Lazlo Twill."
Alacrity was holding up his hand, the commo link being insecure. "Nice to see you again, Lord Marcus."
Perlez's eyes narrowed as he nodded slowly. "It's been awhile, m'boy; that it has. I've thought of you often. How soon can you get yourself over here?" The image gave Floyt a canny glance.
Alacrity promised to jump into a hire-flier and get right over to Lord Marcus's estate, Ends Well. Floyt was disappointed that the man didn't offer to send transportation for them; a cab ride might well break them.
"It's better this way," Alacrity told him as they left the studio. "I'd just as soon not hang around here any longer than we have to, and this way nobody sees some chauffeur picking us up and makes the connection."
Several robofliers were waiting nearby, just as there were outside customs. Alacrity ignored them and, leading Floyt
"Sure I am, but everybody thinks we're on Earth, m'friend. Not only that, a lot of folks think we look like those illustrations on Tula's books: body builders with perfect hair and eye makeup. Anyway, who could recognize us from the Camarilla hearings? We were behind closed doors just about all the time, besides which Spica and Earth and the Camarilla probably don't mean much to these people. But still, you can wait here in the Whelk if you'd rather."
"I'd as soon open my wrists."
Windfall's starport was small and looked more like a campus or park. The customs people were polite but very thorough in searching the two for contraband. Two-day tourist visas were approved without delay.
Floyt scanned the applicable rules, restrictions, and penalties. For a bucolic sort of place, Windfall seemed oddly obsessed with long terms at hard labor. He and Alacrity converted the last of their cash into local currency and walked out under the red-gold light of Cornucopia, Windfall's primary.
Alacrity stopped to make a quick call to Lord Marcus Perlez, with Floyt looking on from the side in the little public commo studio. Floyt was relieved to see the cost of the call was low.
The call went through and the projector showed them a life-size image of a woman standing by a commo terminal configured to look like a nostalgie de le juquebox pedestal.
"Thermostat alert," Alacrity murmured. "Meltdown imminent!" Floyt clucked angrily and knuckled him in the back.
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...y%20-%20Fall%20of%20the%20White%20Ship%20Avatar.htm (35 of 242)23-2-2006 17:03:12
[Fitzhugh 3]-FALL OF THE WHITE SHIP AVATAR
But she was special to look at, a toothsome size nine who was all legs and lush curves, tawny skin, and eerily transluscent blue eyes. She was barefoot, wearing an ensemble of burgundy-color glowtulle: wimple, loin bunting, forearm plaits, and thigh-high gaiters. Between her breasts hung a huge, faceted Lillith's eye on a fine silver chain.
They devoured her with their stares; she gave them a look of resigned good humor. "What do you wish, please?"
Before Alacrity could pounce on the line, Floyt nudged him again. "To talk to Lord Marcus Perlez,"
Alacrity supplied. "Tell him Lazlo Twill wants to catch up on old times."
She put them on hold and her image disappeared from the tiny public studio. Floyt realized his mouth was open and shut it. "Lazlo Twill?"
"I'll explain later."
"If you don't, I'll start calling you that."
A second later a lean, oldish man appeared on the screen. He had stringy, sinewy lines to his face, a ram's-horn handlebar mustache, and great, full sideburns. His smile showed what looked like too many teeth, like chalk tombstones. "Well, well, Lazlo Twill."
Alacrity was holding up his hand, the commo link being insecure. "Nice to see you again, Lord Marcus."
Perlez's eyes narrowed as he nodded slowly. "It's been awhile, m'boy; that it has. I've thought of you often. How soon can you get yourself over here?" The image gave Floyt a canny glance.
Alacrity promised to jump into a hire-flier and get right over to Lord Marcus's estate, Ends Well. Floyt was disappointed that the man didn't offer to send transportation for them; a cab ride might well break them.
"It's better this way," Alacrity told him as they left the studio. "I'd just as soon not hang around here any longer than we have to, and this way nobody sees some chauffeur picking us up and makes the connection."
Several robofliers were waiting nearby, just as there were outside customs. Alacrity ignored them and, leading Floyt
Similar Books
