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Authors: Alan Burt Akers
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over a jug. The clatter brought them out of that locked glance of future passion. I heaved up a sigh inside myself — Delia! Delia!
I wanted to know what Dimpy intended to do about the frame-up and as we finished breakfast he told us his story. He was worried over his mother and sisters. If Sleed the Slick harmed them, Dimpy did not wish to face the consequences of that horrific thought.
“And it’s not safe for you to return to the Hellraisers?” Tiri’s question was just too artless to pass muster.
All the same, Dimpy bit. “I know how much I owe you for your help. Believe me, I am very grateful. But I’ll hafta go back.”
“We’ll speak to Ranaj,” said Fweygo in a casual way. “He’ll find you a job in the palace. That’ll be better than thieving for a living.”
Dimpy flared up. “I’m not a thief! I told you, that was a stupid Hellraiser test. Anyway, anything we take up here’s been taken from us down there before!”
Tiri started up then and Fweygo and I realized when we weren’t wanted. Dimpy was in an awkward position. He had a splendid chance to get out of the warrens, one not easily come by in the normal course of events, yet the problem of his family remained. I fancied young Tirivenswatha would have a hand in sorting out what eventuated. They made a fine couple, at that. The idea was not too ridiculous. We joined a group where Fat Lardo, one of the cooks, was retailing the latest gossip from the streets.
Yet another beautiful young girl had been found dead. Her naked and bloody body had been discovered early this morning dumped in the gutter of Penitence Alley which ran alongside the Temple of Tolaar. She had been murdered in a most brutal fashion, badly cut up, and her heart had not been found.
“Who was she?” Fweygo wanted to know.
“Paline Lanto. She was a respectable shop girl.”
“A lover’s tiff?”
Oily Nath, the fry-up artist, burst out: “Blood and guts everywhere? Some lover! Some tiff!”
That appeared an appropriate comment and everyone solemnly nodded heads. Poor little Paline Lanto was only the last in a horrific line of murder victims. All had been nauseatingly mutilated. Affairs of this nature are best left to the proper authorities. The City Guard ought to be investigating. So far they had told us nothing regarding Byrom’s kidnapping and I doubted if they’d have any greater success over these murders.
A waft of cold air breezed over us and Fweygo looked around sharply, one of his fists going to the hilt of his sword.
Directly opposite me a blue mist irradiated by an inner glow formed. I did not change expression; but I felt my heart give an almighty thump.
Slowly the blue mist thickened and took on the form of a man in a long robe. The familiar kindly features of San Deb-Lu beamed out at me. No one took any notice. Our comrade Wizard of Loh had powers, by Zair, powers! He beckoned. I stood up, excusing myself, and followed the apparition out and along the passage to a storeroom.
“Lahal, Jak.”
“Lahal, San.”
“This fellow Wocut — calls himself a sorcerer. Odd Type.” By the inflexion in his voice I could tell Deb-Lu was using capital letters to express deeper meanings to his words. “I’ve already checked him out. In his desire to emigrate to Vallia I Believe Him To Be Sincere.” Deb-Lu went on to say that Drak had given his assent and that in Vondium Wocut would have a very close eye kept on him by Khe-Hi and Ling-Li. So, naturally, I wanted to know all the news from home, and the sorcerer retailed many fascinating details.
He finished by saying in his doubtful voice: “I cannot pretend to understand why you remain here in Balintol, Dray. I do know there is a reason. Vallia muchly wants this treaty for the airboats and riding animals Tolindrin can provide. If I—”
I dared to interrupt the Wizard of Loh.
“The old king here did not approve of most sorcery. It is mostly religion and its mysteries. And I believe there are
I wanted to know what Dimpy intended to do about the frame-up and as we finished breakfast he told us his story. He was worried over his mother and sisters. If Sleed the Slick harmed them, Dimpy did not wish to face the consequences of that horrific thought.
“And it’s not safe for you to return to the Hellraisers?” Tiri’s question was just too artless to pass muster.
All the same, Dimpy bit. “I know how much I owe you for your help. Believe me, I am very grateful. But I’ll hafta go back.”
“We’ll speak to Ranaj,” said Fweygo in a casual way. “He’ll find you a job in the palace. That’ll be better than thieving for a living.”
Dimpy flared up. “I’m not a thief! I told you, that was a stupid Hellraiser test. Anyway, anything we take up here’s been taken from us down there before!”
Tiri started up then and Fweygo and I realized when we weren’t wanted. Dimpy was in an awkward position. He had a splendid chance to get out of the warrens, one not easily come by in the normal course of events, yet the problem of his family remained. I fancied young Tirivenswatha would have a hand in sorting out what eventuated. They made a fine couple, at that. The idea was not too ridiculous. We joined a group where Fat Lardo, one of the cooks, was retailing the latest gossip from the streets.
Yet another beautiful young girl had been found dead. Her naked and bloody body had been discovered early this morning dumped in the gutter of Penitence Alley which ran alongside the Temple of Tolaar. She had been murdered in a most brutal fashion, badly cut up, and her heart had not been found.
“Who was she?” Fweygo wanted to know.
“Paline Lanto. She was a respectable shop girl.”
“A lover’s tiff?”
Oily Nath, the fry-up artist, burst out: “Blood and guts everywhere? Some lover! Some tiff!”
That appeared an appropriate comment and everyone solemnly nodded heads. Poor little Paline Lanto was only the last in a horrific line of murder victims. All had been nauseatingly mutilated. Affairs of this nature are best left to the proper authorities. The City Guard ought to be investigating. So far they had told us nothing regarding Byrom’s kidnapping and I doubted if they’d have any greater success over these murders.
A waft of cold air breezed over us and Fweygo looked around sharply, one of his fists going to the hilt of his sword.
Directly opposite me a blue mist irradiated by an inner glow formed. I did not change expression; but I felt my heart give an almighty thump.
Slowly the blue mist thickened and took on the form of a man in a long robe. The familiar kindly features of San Deb-Lu beamed out at me. No one took any notice. Our comrade Wizard of Loh had powers, by Zair, powers! He beckoned. I stood up, excusing myself, and followed the apparition out and along the passage to a storeroom.
“Lahal, Jak.”
“Lahal, San.”
“This fellow Wocut — calls himself a sorcerer. Odd Type.” By the inflexion in his voice I could tell Deb-Lu was using capital letters to express deeper meanings to his words. “I’ve already checked him out. In his desire to emigrate to Vallia I Believe Him To Be Sincere.” Deb-Lu went on to say that Drak had given his assent and that in Vondium Wocut would have a very close eye kept on him by Khe-Hi and Ling-Li. So, naturally, I wanted to know all the news from home, and the sorcerer retailed many fascinating details.
He finished by saying in his doubtful voice: “I cannot pretend to understand why you remain here in Balintol, Dray. I do know there is a reason. Vallia muchly wants this treaty for the airboats and riding animals Tolindrin can provide. If I—”
I dared to interrupt the Wizard of Loh.
“The old king here did not approve of most sorcery. It is mostly religion and its mysteries. And I believe there are
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