Read Online Savage Scorpio by Alan Burt Akers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alan Burt Akers
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combed, he looked just the same, and he held the same old velvet-lined sturmwood case of acupuncture needles under his arm.
“I am happy to see you, prince,” he said, most formally.
“And I you, doctor,” I answered gravely. “I do not know what this nonsense is about your being refused an audience of the emperor; but we’ll go in and see him now.”
Nath nodded and then, because, as was proper, the Princess Majestrix walked first, and Thelda and Katrin walked a half-step to her rear, and Seg was trying to catch a bundle of wool about to fall from Thelda’s bag, Nath and I walked at the rear.
Nath began to talk as these savants do, increasingly oblivious of his surroundings, absorbed by his own thoughts.
“The shorgortz poison — you remember that, I am sure, my prince — is proving of fascinating interest. The Blue Mountain Boys captured a specimen in a pit and, knowing my interest, for I sent messages and gold to Korf Aighos, they extracted the poison and forwarded me a sample. It is indeed remarkable. Incredible, if a doctor may ever use that word. I have conducted experiments, see—” Here he halted and began pulling papers from the pockets in the flaps of his old brown coat. I swear dust flew. He bashed the papers about — they were ordinary paper and not the superb paper made by the Savanti — and crumpled them up and dropped some. I helped him collect up these vital medical discoveries.
“I shall look at your work with great pleasure, doctor; but later. Now I want you to see the emperor and tell me just what is the matter with him and what must be done to cure him.”
Nath the Needle favored me with a look, jolted back to the reason for his presence here. He made a singularly apt remark about Charboi; but he was perfectly willing to try again. He sneezed a couple of times, stuffing the papers away.
If I thought the obstacles to Nath the Needle seeing the emperor had all been overcome, then I was an onker indeed.
We debouched beneath overhanging arches lavishly decorated with exquisite mosaics depicting — oh, the pictures were filled with the fire and passion of Vallia’s turbulent past. Across the wide marble-floored space where cool fountains sparkled in the perfumed air, where fruit trees bloomed and delicately colored birds flitted from branch to branch, the long white wall barring off the emperor’s quarters as approached from this direction showed a solid crimson and black band along its foot.
The guards stood shoulder to shoulder, a Crimson Bowman and a Chulik, alternating. Pacing toward us came two Jiktars, high officers, one a Bowman of Loh, the other a Chulik.
Delia proved herself a princess in her handling of them.
Haughtily, yet with just the right amount of friendliness stopping this side of condescension, she avowed the Prince Majister was now free to walk in Vondium, that she intended to see her father, and her suite would go with her. The guards stood back. We walked through. Although I did not smile, my fist no longer rested on the rapier hilt. A little thing — but revealing. . .
There was no mistaking the abrupt dispatch of a Bowman runner, a lithe young man fresh from Loh, learning his trade.
The light chilled. Heavy doors swung inwards. I knew just where we were, now, and had studied the plans of the palace drawn up many seasons ago when this wing had been built. At last, past a bevy of waiting nurses and minor doctors, we entered the sick room.
The place struck me with a chill repulsion. Delia visited her father constantly, had been drawn away by Tilly’s startling news. He lay in the wide bed, on his back, the covers drawn to his chin and pettishly pulled half down one side. His wasted face spider-webbed with etched lines, the cheeks sunken in. I saw the hand he extended to his daughter and was shocked at its skeletal aspect. He had always been a firmly fleshed man.
His flesh was wasting away. His condition really was serious, and Delia’s concern struck me,
“I am happy to see you, prince,” he said, most formally.
“And I you, doctor,” I answered gravely. “I do not know what this nonsense is about your being refused an audience of the emperor; but we’ll go in and see him now.”
Nath nodded and then, because, as was proper, the Princess Majestrix walked first, and Thelda and Katrin walked a half-step to her rear, and Seg was trying to catch a bundle of wool about to fall from Thelda’s bag, Nath and I walked at the rear.
Nath began to talk as these savants do, increasingly oblivious of his surroundings, absorbed by his own thoughts.
“The shorgortz poison — you remember that, I am sure, my prince — is proving of fascinating interest. The Blue Mountain Boys captured a specimen in a pit and, knowing my interest, for I sent messages and gold to Korf Aighos, they extracted the poison and forwarded me a sample. It is indeed remarkable. Incredible, if a doctor may ever use that word. I have conducted experiments, see—” Here he halted and began pulling papers from the pockets in the flaps of his old brown coat. I swear dust flew. He bashed the papers about — they were ordinary paper and not the superb paper made by the Savanti — and crumpled them up and dropped some. I helped him collect up these vital medical discoveries.
“I shall look at your work with great pleasure, doctor; but later. Now I want you to see the emperor and tell me just what is the matter with him and what must be done to cure him.”
Nath the Needle favored me with a look, jolted back to the reason for his presence here. He made a singularly apt remark about Charboi; but he was perfectly willing to try again. He sneezed a couple of times, stuffing the papers away.
If I thought the obstacles to Nath the Needle seeing the emperor had all been overcome, then I was an onker indeed.
We debouched beneath overhanging arches lavishly decorated with exquisite mosaics depicting — oh, the pictures were filled with the fire and passion of Vallia’s turbulent past. Across the wide marble-floored space where cool fountains sparkled in the perfumed air, where fruit trees bloomed and delicately colored birds flitted from branch to branch, the long white wall barring off the emperor’s quarters as approached from this direction showed a solid crimson and black band along its foot.
The guards stood shoulder to shoulder, a Crimson Bowman and a Chulik, alternating. Pacing toward us came two Jiktars, high officers, one a Bowman of Loh, the other a Chulik.
Delia proved herself a princess in her handling of them.
Haughtily, yet with just the right amount of friendliness stopping this side of condescension, she avowed the Prince Majister was now free to walk in Vondium, that she intended to see her father, and her suite would go with her. The guards stood back. We walked through. Although I did not smile, my fist no longer rested on the rapier hilt. A little thing — but revealing. . .
There was no mistaking the abrupt dispatch of a Bowman runner, a lithe young man fresh from Loh, learning his trade.
The light chilled. Heavy doors swung inwards. I knew just where we were, now, and had studied the plans of the palace drawn up many seasons ago when this wing had been built. At last, past a bevy of waiting nurses and minor doctors, we entered the sick room.
The place struck me with a chill repulsion. Delia visited her father constantly, had been drawn away by Tilly’s startling news. He lay in the wide bed, on his back, the covers drawn to his chin and pettishly pulled half down one side. His wasted face spider-webbed with etched lines, the cheeks sunken in. I saw the hand he extended to his daughter and was shocked at its skeletal aspect. He had always been a firmly fleshed man.
His flesh was wasting away. His condition really was serious, and Delia’s concern struck me,
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