CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A certain Bowman of Loh comments on the Archers of Valka

That evening everyone crowded in and The Rose of Valka rocked with the roistering songs of Kregen. And, chief among these, sung for all its seven hundred and seventy-eight stanzas, was The Fetching of Drak na Valka.

Among the Valkan revelers, dressed like them in the flaunting red and white, sat Seg Segutorio. I had told him, swiftly, not to start singing The Bowmen of Loh.

“I’ll fight any man who denies me!” he had started to roar out and I had hustled him away up the black-wood stair to my upper chamber.

“By Zim-Zair, you onker-headed bowman!” I exclaimed. He calmed down and then, with that strong streak of practicality that runs intertwined with the feyness of the men of the mountains and valleys of Erthyrdrin, he nodded, understanding. “Although, Dray, you know that there is no better bow than the longbow. All these made-up sinew and bone and horn bows, curved like a pregnant duck; they are as toys beside the longbow.”

“True, true. But — watch it!”

“All is ready. By the Veiled Froyvil, but Delia is a true princess! She has made the arrangements for the airboat. Thelda and I and little Dray are ready. We can—”

I felt shock.

“You — you wish to come, too, Seg?”

He looked at me as though I had slapped him around the face.

“Of course.” His bright blue eyes glittered on me in the soft radiance of the samphron oil lamp. “You want me to, don’t you, my old dom?”

I managed to say, “I couldn’t get along without you,” and turned away so that he should not see my face.

The noise from below was reaching fantastic proportions and we went down and took up the wine — it was the best of Jholaix, precious and rare and saved for super-special occasions — and joined in the singing. Vangar ti Valkanium sang. Anko the Chisel sang. Everyone sang. We sang of Valka. A lithe and lissome girl, very beautiful, with a heart-shaped face and a figure to stir men to immediate action, recited some of the more sublime passages from The Fatal Love of Vela na Valka and we all joined in the choruses. Then, for the third time, we roared out all the seven hundred and seventy-eight stanzas of the song commemorating my fetching of Valka out of the shadows and of the Valkans fetching me to be their Strom.

It takes a long time to sing seven hundred or so stanzas and when, at last, we threw the shutters back it was high noon outside in Vondium. Deldar Vangar had a mad scramble to get back to report for duty. He spoke of a visit the Emperor was paying to Vindelka, northwest of the city. No one took much notice, the fumes of wine coiling in our brains. Seg had left early, saying that as a private Koter he had duties to perform he dare not let lapse now, so close to the time for our departure. He had mentioned Vindelka, too.

We had, in the Kregan idiom, a zhantil to saddle, and we all had our secret parts to perform. To clear my head, after I had shaved that harsh chin of mine, I took a stroll along the quays and watched all the busy loading and unloading of the great galleons of Vallia. Produce from all over the known world flowed into Vondium, and the products of Vallia flowed out. Gulls wheeled overhead, shrieking. The twin suns shone gloriously. The air held that bracing tang of the sea. But — the Star Lords had expressly forbidden me to sail the seas of Kregen for a space. How I longed, then, to take my Delia up onto the deck of a great galleon and sail with her over the rim of the world!

When I returned to The Rose of Valka a sedan chair such as are commonly seen all over the city stood at the door. The two men who bore it were slaves, although decently clad in dark brown shifts, with a lotus-flower emblazoned on breast and back. With them were four soldiers and a Hikdar, wide of shoulder and lean of waist, their raffish hats sporting feathers of yellow and green, with a double red stripe slashed athwart their brightness. I went in, and Young Bargom presented a lady whose face was covered with a deep violet veil. My first glance convinced me this could not be Delia in disguise, and the leap of my heart stilled.

Bargom withdrew and the lady lifted her veil. She was young, pretty, but with a pallid squarish face in which the brown eyes held none of the luster and sparkle to which I was accustomed.

“I am Pela, my lord Strom, handmaid to the Kovneva Katrin. I am bid to tell you that the Kovneva must see you immediately.”

“Yes? Do you know why, Pela?”

“No, my lord Strom. Only that it is urgent, very urgent.”

“I do not know the Kovneva Katrin. Tell me of her.”

“But, my lord Strom!” Her eyes opened wide and for all their dullness they expressed astonishment.

“She is a great and powerful lady. Since the Kov died she has refused to marry. Now she is a devoted attendant upon the Princess Majestrix.”

So that was it, I said to myself. I yelled for Bargom and between us we made me look presentable, with a buff jerkinlike tunic with wide winged shoulders which left the white silk shirt sleeves visible. I buckled on the rapier and main-gauche and took up the hat with the red and white feathers. Down the black-wood stairs I went, following Pela, who got into the sedan chair very quickly. The bearers lifted their poles, the Hikdar gave me a sketchy salute, rapped out his orders, and we started for the palace. The effects of a rollicking night coupled with the fresh air left me feeling alert and breezy, although with the edges of fatigue beginning to creep along my bones. We climbed up through the crowded streets and along wide boulevards where the quoffa carts trundled and the zorca chariots whickered their tall wheels. There were fewer airboats than usual wheeling over the city today. The birds sensed this, and they swooped and gyrated against the twin suns.

Around to the western face of the palace we went beneath the frowning walls where the mercenary guards paced. In through a square opening, faced with marble and gold, and so up again along courtyards and colonnades, and into the rear of the apartments reserved for the Princess. In a small square room, with a lamp burning in the center which cast weird gleams upon the friezes of mythical beasts and birds, the sedan chair was placed down and Pela alighted. The Hikdar saluted and marched his men out.

Pela said, “Wait here, my lord Strom.”

As soon as she had gone I loosened my rapier in its scabbard and looked about. There were but two doors, and Pela had left through the opposite one. When its sturm-wood panels bearing plaques of beaten silver opened and a woman walked in, attended only by Pela, I relaxed a little.

“Strom Drak, of Valka?”

“Yes.”

“I am the Kovneva Katrin Rashumin of Rahartdrin and you address me as my lady Kovneva.”

I said, “I haven’t come here to play games. What do you want of me?”

She flinched back. My words were tantamount to my striking her across the face. I heard Pela gasp. If there was trouble for my Delia there was no time for protocol and fine manners. I took a step forward, fears for Delia uppermost in my mind. I stuck my face at this haughty Kovneva.

“Well?”

She put her hands to her breast. She wore a long silvery gown that fell to the marble floor, and was held over her shoulders by a mass of jewels. Her dark hair was coiffed and curled and smothered with a net of glittering gems. As for her face — it was hard in outline, of undoubted beauty, with fine dark eyes and a mouth rather too thin for my taste. She reminded me, as a candle reminds one of a samphron oil lamp, of Queen Lilah, that proud and sensuous Queen of Paul.

She managed to speak. “I will have you flogged! I will have you torn asunder! To speak to me, the Kovneva, this way! You are a fool, a rast, a cramph, a—”

I took her left wrist into my hand and lifted it before our faces. I glared down into her eyes. Her face altered in contour, changing, going slack, the soggy droop she would never admit appearing beneath her chin. I knew my face wore that old corrosive look of pure domination and harsh authority that, in other circumstances, I have so despaired of. Here it broke this woman’s resistance down in a way that, however unpleasant it might have been, was desperately essential.

“The Emperor,” she whispered. “He has gone to Vindelka. The Princess Majestrix flies with him. I am—” She swallowed. “I am bid by the Princess on behalf of the Emperor to command you to join them.”

I let her wrist go and she rubbed it with her other hand, staring at me the while with a look that should have blasted me on the spot. I nodded.

“Very well, Kovneva. Let us go, in the name of Opaz!”

Pela’s eyes were as round as palines.

“And,” I said in that harsh and hateful voice, “you will receive from me all the deference that is your due. Next time don’t shilly-shally when there are messages from the Emperor.”

“I shall remember this—”

“That is good. Make sure you remember well.”

From this unedifying scene of my bullying a silly woman I took no pleasure, particularly after I had, as I considered, been groveling before the Emperor. But all my fears for Delia had leaped into my mind, and almost I had said “messages from the Princess.” Only a last-minute flash of common sense had made me change that to “Emperor.”

Of course, all the plans were changed. Delia must have managed to remind her father of the Strom of Valka, and arranged for my presence at Vindelka. That she had chosen this woman, this Kovneva Katrin, to bring the message must surely mean she held her in some esteem, even if she didn’t trust Katrin Rashumin. Rahartdrin — that is, the land of Rahart — is a large island off the southwestern tip of Vallia, south of the straits between Womox and the Blue Mountains. All these places I was hearing about now have since come to mean a great deal to me, and to become very familiar, as you shall hear. I was slowly learning my way around Vallia, the land of my Princess.

Rahartdrin is about five times as extensive as Valka. She was a Kovneva and I was a Strom. No wonder she balked at my cavalier treatment of her!

Muffled in cloaks, we went out swiftly and boarded the waiting airboat, and I wondered just what rapier to grind Katrin Rashumin had in all this. She was more than a mere messenger. How much of the Emperor’s trust did she have? And, far more importantly, how loyal was she to Delia?

The airboat was of the usual pattern, petal-shaped, about fifty feet long, with a sumptuously appointed cabin taking up the aft third of the length. Atop this was a sun-deck. I noticed that while the usual flag of Vallia — the yellow saltire on the red ground — flew from the stern, Katrin’s own flag — the lotus in yellow and green picked out in red — flew from a staff in the prow. Evidently, this was her own personal airboat.

The luxury of the cabin confirmed this, for it was furnished in a sybaritic and yet realistic way very much of a piece with her character. I threw my cloak onto a chaise longue and looked about for a drink. The airboat bore on through the levels toward Vindelka. The crew wore the yellow and green striped sleeves, with twin slashes of red through the yellow, and they looked competent enough. Although, no one could feel absolutely secure aboard an airboat; I recalled what Naghan Furtway, Kov of Falinur, had had to say about the rasts of Havilfar. Pela brought wine then, a good vintage, and I settled down to what I considered would be the monotony of the aerial voyage.

As soon as the wine was served, Katrin drove Pela out in an abrupt and yet not unkind way, to go and sit in the suns-shine on the forward deck, and then locked the door. I did not think I was going to try to escape from an airboat a thousand feet in the air.

“You know how the racters have forced the Presidio to tax Valka more heavily than is just?” she began without preamble.

“I know, Kovneva.”

“This is why you are in Vondium?”

“Yes.” It was as good an excuse as any. I felt the Emperor had sized me up — whether I liked the man or detested him I still didn’t know — and he had not mentioned the tax situation. I thought then that if it had been my daughter claiming the horrible object that had been Dray Prescot in his chains and filth, I might have reacted as he had done.

“And you are not prepared to do anything about it?”

“Just what had you in mind?”

The very word tax is obscene, of course, to those who pay. To those who collect for causes their honor tells them are just, the word means different things. But then, any taxman believes his cause is just. My people of Valka paid heavy taxes, unjustly heavy, as I had discovered since reaching Vondium. My selfish desires about Delia had driven the matter from my head. Now this woman was obviously seeking allies against the racters.

“Valka is a rich island. Richer, I venture to suggest, than Rahartdrin.”

She flared up at this. But then she nodded, and bit her lip.

“Since my husband, the Kov, died, things have gone to wrack and ruin.”

“You need a man, Katrin.”

Of course, I shouldn’t have said that.

And, indeed, it wasn’t necessarily true. I make no claims for the superiority of men in managing estates, and I know my Delia could manage Delphond like a dream. The Blue Mountains tended to be left in the capable hands of her elders in High Zorcady. But this Katrin Rashumin, Kovneva of Rahartdrin, took my words and read into them what my ugly face and foul manners had kindled in her, and thus confirmed that belief in her mind. She did, in sober truth, need a man.

She drank more wine. Then she unclasped her silvery robe and let it fall to the floor. She moved toward me, and threw her round arms about my neck. “Drak, Drak — you would be a Kov!” as though that must clinch the argument.

As gently as I could I detached her fingers from me. Her silvery robe lay strewn about the deck. Her jeweled hair had fallen into a great loose mass, and a fortune rolled about on the priceless carpets of Walfarg weave.

“I am a man, Katrin; not Strom or Kov or Prince have any meaning for me.” I did not say that being a Krozair of Zy held meaning. She would not have understood. “You must find a man more complaisant to your desires.”

She rested a while then, drinking wine, the slanting mingled rays of Zim and Genodras playing over her body. She would resume the fight shortly, I knew. No wonder she had locked the door. But I was learning all the time. I would be a Kov if I married her. I had become a Strom in all legality because I had won the position, and none could say me nay. How these nobles of Vallia had schemed and bribed and fought their way to power! And how they must be ever ready to fend off the plunderers forever following them! What a man could make of himself, what he could hold, that he was, in Vallia. Of course, like any system of its kind, once you were in power, in the saddle, wielding the whip, you tended to build up reserves to keep you in power.

“No,” I said. “No, Katrin. I will be your friend, if you wish that, and perhaps take a lash and an accounting book into the island of Rahart. More than that I cannot be.”

“I have never met a man like you! In a few short burs I knew. Time has no meaning in affairs of the heart. The moment you spoke to me, so rudely, so intemperately, I knew you were the man! I felt myself turn to jelly—”

I didn’t laugh, but it deserved it. Poor soul! But for her, it was all deadly serious.

“I will strike a bargain with you, Katrin. I will be your good friend. I will ride into Rahartdrin and see what is going wrong. And you, in your turn, wipe your face, put on your robe, and tidy your hair — and then help and support me with the Emperor.”

If she rebelled at that, put on her icy hauteur and allowed her hatred to spew forth — well and good. I just wanted to know where we stood. But she was prepared to accept that heavy-handed patronizing attitude — for all that I meant sincerely what I said, it was still insufferably obnoxious — and she did as she was bid, and once more turned from a passionate sobbing submissive woman into a regal and distant Kovneva.

A call came down the tube. The border of Vindelka had long been passed and now we were heading in for a landing at Delka Ob. This was the capital of Vindelka, where Tharu and now Vomanus lorded it over fat realms. At Delka Dwa, right over on the northwestern border, lay a frontier town against the poor lands stretching away up there, lands over which I had trudged hauling the Emperor’s barge. There were few lakes in that area, the ground was thin and sorry, and the wind scoured the landscape into wild and fantastic shapes. Only a few leem-hunters and madmen looking for gold and jewels found much in these badlands over which to feel satisfaction. The River of Shining Spears which ran from the Blue Mountains into the Great River skirted south of these badlands. They were called the Ocher Limits. Beyond them and sharing them as a common frontier, seldom visited, lay the Kovnate of Falinur. Katrin and I went out on deck as the airboat slanted down for a landing. Away across to the west where the twin suns sank in a jumbled blaze of emerald and orange the sky was a mass of glorious color. Fierce black twisted, violent spirals of cloud coiled up, with the beams of the suns striking through and the glow extending far across the horizon.

“We made our landing just in time, my lady Kovneva,” said the airboat captain. He looked ill at ease. Katrin didn’t bother to reply. We all stood there, watching that violence and glory in the sky to the west. Delka Ob was a pleasant enough place, situated at the crossing of two canals, with much greenery, shade trees, and the soothing sounds of water tinkling from fountains and waterfalls created in the gardens of the houses. There was the usual labor section; but here, too, the houses looked neat and clean and the people moved with that alertness and firmness of tread I always welcome, for it means the taint of slavery is not embedded in their bones.

Without question, the Kovneva ordered her palanquin out from the flier’s hold and gave instructions to be taken directly to the palace. This was the palace of Vomanus of Vindelka. Now it hosted the Emperor and the Princess Majestrix. Pela was carried in her sedan chair; I walked with the guards. The suns were declining now, the air growing cooler. Our way from the landing field took us across one of the many bridges over a canal and here I heard the familiar hateful trilling of an Emperor’s stentor, and looking over the bridge parapet down onto the towpath I saw the sorry procession of dun gray barges. The haulers were being flogged into a shambling run, for the guards were impatient. I guessed these barges were carrying supplies, furniture, clothes, all the habitual magnificences of the Emperor, to the palace of Delka Ob, and had been dispatched some time ago, when this visit had been arranged, timed to reach the city for the Emperor’s arrival. This was so.

They had been held up — a canal had burst its banks and the work of reconstruction had chopped all the leeway out of the schedule. The chamberlain in charge of those barges was no doubt trembling in his boots. I saw the savage way the whips rose and fell, the way the knouts smashed down on the heads and backs of the haulers. The red and black arms rose and fell remorselessly. A girl collapsed and was immediately cut out from her leash and pushed aside. She would be dealt with later.

“Hurry, Strom Drak!” called Katrin, putting her head out between the curtains of her palanquin. “Just a moment, Kovneva,” I said. I turned to go. I had seen enough. I turned to go and saw at the head of the struggling knot of figures of the next barge in line a tall man leaning into the rope and hauling and hauling. I stopped turning to go. I swung back, very sharply.

I knew that I grew perilously close to callousness over the Emperor’s slaves. A single man, Strom or not, could not affect that issue at a blow; abolition would take time and immense effort over many years. But, that being so, I must do what appeared to me the right thing to do. Nepotism, if correctly used, can be a worthwhile tool, as witness Nelson and Collingwood, among others. So, feeling shame that I could do nothing for those other poor struggling devils, I ran quickly down off the bridge and onto the towpath. A guard brought his lash down again and again onto the thin naked back of the tall man, striking with a passion of ferocity unwholesome to witness.

“Get on, you stinking cramph! Get on, you kleesh.”

The next act of mine was all over before I had fairly realized it had begun. I struck the guard full on the jaw. He dropped, senseless. Other guards had seen. They came running, up. I looked at the tall man. Seven feet tall, he was, extraordinarily thin of arm and leg, but with a bunching of muscles there that showed the lean sinewy strength of him. From his head a long silky mass of yellow hair fell to his waist. Now that hair was filthy and befouled. And he’d been uncovered when the Maiden of the Many Smiles floated alone in the sky!

“What in the name of Opaz do you think you’re doing, rast?”

The guards hesitated for a moment, as I did not draw but faced them. I glared at them and I know they saw the hatred in my face.

“If you do not instantly release this man, your barges will foul and choke the cut. The Emperor will not like that.”

“Who in the name of Opaz are you to—” I drew the rapier. I drew slowly. “I am Drak, the Strom of Valka.” All the time the haulers had been blindly hauling on, and I had backed to pace them. “I can kill you all, and will do so with pleasure. Release that man. I am seeing the Emperor now; I have been summoned to talk with him.” They stared at me, their faces lumps in that eerie streaming light. I jumped back and with a single blow sliced through the tow rope. The leading man, that incredibly tall and thin man with the silky mane of yellow hair, lurched forward. Relieved of the horrendous weight of the barge he hauled forward at nothing and collapsed into the bloody froth of the towpath. A guard — he was a Deldar — yelled his anger and charged full on me, his rapier held correctly for an instant thrust.

I met him, twisted, and sank my blade in his belly. I withdrew. “If any more of you want the same, come on!”

The thin man rolled over. He lay on his back, looking up, and I saw his face go through a whole spectrum of expressions, from dumb animal wonder to a glorious sunrise of hope.

“I am Drak, Strom of Valka!” I shouted.

Katrin’s voice lifted from the bridge. “What is going on, Strom Drak? The Emperor is waiting to speak with you!”

The guards checked at this. They looked at their comrade, coughing his guts out. They looked at my rapier. They looked — and longest — at my face.

“I will pay the necessary fees, indemnities, but this man is manumitted as of this moment,” I said. I turned and looked down. “I am Drak,” I said again, hammering it home. “I shall find you a long-hafted ax, for I think that will please you. Now, by Ngrangi the all-powerful, get up and let us go to the Emperor.”

“With all my heart!” said Inch.

“And don’t think of working off your taboos until I can find you a suitable place in which to do so.”

“I don’t believe, Dray — Drak. But I must. Now all praise to Ngrangi!” Inch of Ng’groga leaped up, his long arms and legs pinwheels against the sunset’s glow. He looked wonderful in that moment. Inch — old Inch, of Ng’groga, my good comrade in many a fight, many a carouse.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Inch flies to High Zorcady

The Emperor and Delia, with their courtiers, nobles, retainers, and guards, had not stayed at Delka Ob but had flown immediately to Delka Dwa. I fumed at this news in a way I believe you will understand. Prepared instantly to take to the air again I was met by the captain of Katrin’s airboat. His air of uneasiness persisted. This, I quickly discovered, was caused by the sunset and the storm out there to the west.

Even as we spoke, myself intemperately, the captain apologetically and half dead with fright, and Katrin soothingly, the outriders of the wind swooped howling over the rooftops of the city. The palace shook under the hammer-blows of the elements. Much damage was caused in the city that night; it was clear we could not fly in this weather. The rain sluiced down and the gutters ran red. The town lay smothered in the ocher and brick-red dust swept up from the Ocher Limits and blown hurtling across the land, leaving a trail of blood.

I cursed.

“The storm will blow itself out in a day, two at most,” Katrin said. “No zorca will get you there quicker if you start now — and travel in this is well-nigh impossible. My flier will span the distance rapidly as soon as the storm drops.”

With that, perforce, I had to be content.

How the fates and the elements conspired to cheat me of what I most desired in two worlds!

In an inner chamber I set about putting Inch back together again. With all the solemnity which the occasion required he set about purging himself of all his broken taboos. The process took time. He stood on his head for burs at a time. He sat on his haunches and howled like a ponsho-trag. A fire was laid and he solemnly jumped in and out of it. He performed some amazing acts which left me either stupefied with wonder or helpless with laughter — me, Dray Prescot. By the time he had finished the night had passed, I had slept, and Inch could be kitted out and tell me all his news. My first words were: “What of Tilda and Pando?”

Inch sat and ate crisp fluffy Kregan bread and honey, and wondered aloud if he should take another dish of lig eggs. The lig egg comes in various shapes and sizes, of which the one with the points at each end and the fat round body between is perhaps the most popular. A few of those and a layer of grilled vosk rashers provided a breakfast fit for an emperor.

“Pando needs your horny hand on his rear,” said Inch. “Tilda is more beautiful than ever, a true Kovneva. Tomboram thrives, but Pando will have to take over as king before he grows much older. He needs responsibility to hold him down. He’s like a nit in a ponsho skin.”

I nodded. These were problems I had not forgotten. “And you?”

He made a face and drank wine, a whole glass, down in one swallow.

“That Ngrangi-forsaken canalwater! All the haulers who were not canalfolk were scared to death of it.”

“So they should be. What of yourself?”

“The argenter was taken by a swordship. The swordship was taken by a Vallian. I was simply packed off along with the rest of the prisoners; they laughed at my suggestion of a ransom.”

“The Vallians would. They are an exceedingly proud and rich people. They covet slaves, for they do not have the numbers that other countries possess.”

“However that may be, I hauled barges for this rast of an Emperor.”

“To whose presence we go as soon as the storm drops.”

Inch, of course, was staggered to find me here. He wanted to know how I had left the inner room of the palace of King Nemo in Pomdermam. I could not tell him that in that triumphant moment of victory, with the renders shouting “Jikai! Dray Prescot! Jikai,” I had seen the scorpion scuttle, and had looked up and seen that greater scorpion blue and dazzling, and so had been hurled back across four hundred light-years to the planet of my birth. So I made up a story that explained it, and he, knowing of my desire to go to Vallia, understood what he chose to understand. He was loyal, was Inch of Ng’groga, a good comrade.

A couple of Katrin’s seamstresses ran up a buff Vallian tunic for Inch, extraordinarily long as to body and sleeves, and although they did it rapidly the stitching was of far finer quality than my own. Katrin, like a true Kovneva, employed only the best, and took them with her on her travels. A pair of tall black boots and a rakish hat with the two slots and a mass of red and white feathers made Inch look something like a Valkan. He found an ax, long-hafted and keen-bitted. Fit, clothed, fed, Inch was ready to march and fight at my side as we had before.

I own I felt him a great comfort to me.

Seg Segutorio had gone with the Bowmen of Loh with the Emperor. I knew he and Inch would get along together — by Zair! They would! Or I would know the reason why!

The wind blew savagely from the west for all of three days, and at times must have gusted up to a hundred miles an hour. There were many slates and tiles strewing the flags of the city. I prowled, restless as a caged leem. Katrin wanted to talk about the problems of her Kovnate of Rahartdrin, but I was in no mood for that, and kept out of her way. Most of the time I spent drinking and talking with Inch. On the morning of the fourth day Katrin’s captain reported the weather fit for us to fly. The wind had veered and dropped and the clouds were piling back into the sky from which the twin suns put in a watery appearance. We went to the airboat, climbed aboard, and took flight for Delka Dwa. I was not in a happy mood. For some reason I did not wish to fathom I felt cut off, isolated, marooned from events. I had made up my mind what I was going to do, and the elements were merely holding me back. They could not change my mind.

I would fly to Delka Dwa, take Delia and whoever she wanted to accompany her aboard this airboat. Seg would join us. I would place my hands on this calsany of a captain’s throat and he would fly Katrin’s airboat to Vondium. We would pick up Thelda and little Dray, and then we would take flight for Strombor.

Yes. That was the plan. Simple, direct, and brutal.

The plan did not work out like that. You must remember that Kregen is not Earth. Oh, yes, most of its geography, customs, and people are like some of those of the Earth; but much there is strange and awe-inspiring and as different from Earth as an Eskimo is different from an Amazonian Indian. We slanted down to a landing where green fields of cabbage ended, their rows wide-spread beneath the suns. On the other side of the landing field rose the craggy pile of Delka Dwa, a dun-colored mass of stone, roofed with pointed witches hats, moated, a triple-gate opened ready to receive us. I had the impression the gates would be slammed shut the instant we were inside over the drawbridge. Across the town hung shadows of high clouds. Beyond lay a rising stretch of land, mostly of a yellow dust-rock in which the glimpses of gray-green vegetation served only to emphasize the barrenness of that land, the emptiness of it, as it rose and became drier and gradually turned into the true Ocher Limits. All was in turmoil.

The blood was still being scrubbed from the cobbles and the flagstones, scraped from the walls, washed from the costly tapestries and carpets.

The bodies had been collected and lay in rows beneath the walls, hurriedly wrapped in makeshift shrouds fashioned from sheeting.

Delka Dwa had been attacked four days ago, just before the great storm. Savage men and beast-men wearing colors of green and purple, their badge a hangman’s noose, had ravaged the place searching for the Emperor.

I forced myself to hold on to my sanity.

Pallan Eling, with a bloody bandage around his head, lay in a long chair, and his scrawny frame shook. I asked him the questions torturing me.

“I do not know where the Princess is, Strom,” he said. His voice quavered. I thought he shook no more than did I. “Now we know the colors and the badge of the third party! By Vox, I hope their bones rot and slime on the Ice Floes of Sicce.”

In the corridors bowmen lay mingled with mercenaries, all wounded, all the Emperor’s men who had fought. They had been overwhelmed.

A Hikdar told me, a Hikdar with a broken left arm strapped across his chest and acupuncture needles in him, dulling the pain. At his side lay his great longbow.

“Pallan Eling should go back to caring for the canals,” the Hikdar said. “And leave fighting to warriors.”

“Yes,” I said, in a voice I did not recognize. “What happened?”

I was aware of Inch busily taking in what had happened and talking to the survivors. The Hikdar’s head lolled.

“I was told to wait here. As soon as we arrived from Delka Ob the Emperor must have heard news, for he took to the air again at once. Half his force he took with him. We who stayed here received the attack designed to kill him. That is sure.”

The real fear took me then and gripped my guts with a pain that made me cry out and rush upon the shrunken form of the Pallan Eling, the man responsible for canals. His face looked like an old potato left out in the sun for a week. He whimpered when I gripped him.

“You must tell me, Pallan Eling. Where is the Princess Majestrix?”

He cried out, and gazed on the scene about him as though reliving the scenes of horror. Then he closed his eyes and a shudder racked through his body. “Gone.” He moaned, barely audible, and his old lips fluttered. “They came wearing the white and black, and said they were my friends, and asked for the Emperor — and I told them! I told them!”

“What did you tell them, old man?”

“Vomanus of Vindelka, it was; he knew. He warned the Emperor! They fled to The Dragon’s Bones. There, Vomanus said, they would be safe.” Eling abruptly sat up, gripped what was left of his hair, and tore at it like a madman. “And I told them where Vomanus had gone!”

I tried to calm myself, to think clearly, and, Zair knows, that was nigh impossible with the blood roaring in my head.

“And the Princess? Where is she?”

“She took an airboat with the others — with the Emperor—”

“Inch! ”I bellowed.

He came running, swinging his ax.

“We go to The Dragon’s Bones.”

“Aye, Drak. Where may that be, then?”

I stared at him like a loon. I had no idea.

A Chulik sat with his back against a wall. One eye had been gouged out and the tusk on that side broken off. His chest was broken and a girl was trying clumsily to ease his pain. He stared up at me with that stoic calmness the Chuliks boast against pain. “The Dragon’s Bones,” he said, in a whisper. He wore sleeves of white and ocher, so he was of Vindelka.

I bent down. “By Likshu the Treacherous! Tell me where lies The Dragon’s Bones, Chulik.”

“Into the Ocher Limits — northwest — twenty, twenty-five dwaburs, more. There are bones there, millions of bones.”

A Chuktar whose once-brilliant uniform was now mere rags, bloody and ripped, leaned up on an arm and coughed out: “There is no hope for the Emperor now. The third party has suborned good men. We stayed loyal to the Emperor, and this is our thanks. There is no one in the whole of Vallia who will fight for him now.”

“No, no!” shrieked the Pallan Eling, and then he looked around furtively. “But it is true. I should have joined Trylon Larghos! I was asked — I was asked! All have turned against the Emperor!” He rocked to and fro in his agony. “Why did I not do so? My loyalty has destroyed me!”

Well, the whole sorry story was out in the open now.

And yet Vomanus had warned the Emperor, and they had fled. Yet Vomanus was Trylon Larghos’

candidate for Delia’s hand! There was treachery and double-treachery here. The confounded roaring and shrieking persisted in my head. I couldn’t think straight. Trylon Larghos. Building his third party, double-dealing the racters — I felt a jolt of surprise. If Vomanus had found out about that, and realized his hopes for Delia as the candidate of the racters meant nothing, he would have turned against the men of the white and black. He had warned the Emperor, but his motives may simply have been pure self-interest. But — Vomanus? I had to get to The Dragon’s Bones and confront him —

and Trylon Larghos.

I snatched up the bowman’s great longbow, and half a dozen filled quivers. They told the story. The third party had come in the guise of racters, as friends, and then had struck with steel; the crimson Bowmen of Loh had gone down with their bows unstrung, the arrows still snugged in their quivers. I took Katrin’s airboat captain’s neck between my fingers.

“You will take us instantly to The Dragon’s Bones.”

He cringed. He had no time to argue, to say a word. He was run outside, and I shouted at the men standing limply by the drawbridge in the gatehouse in such a way that the drawbridge smoked down, and bounced, spouting dust. Inch and I ran across with the flier captain propelled before us. Katrin’s despairing cry followed.

“Strom Drak! You would not leave me?”

“Where I must go there is no place for you, Katrin! I will try to send your airboat back for you.” I gave the captain a buffet to make him run faster. “You might get it back if you’re lucky.”

The captain yelped at this. I kicked him aboard his craft and he fell onto the deck. Rearing up, he saw my face and so gave his orders in a scared husky croak to his crew. We took to the air.

“Captain,” I said. “I do not know your name. But you will obey me in all things. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my lord Strom. I am Hikdar Arkhebi. I will do as you order.”

“Get us to The Dragon’s Bones as though your life depended on it — for, believe you me, it does.”

He took himself off to oversee his steersman, down in the engine compartment where were situated the two silver boxes which, with my limited knowledge then, I understood to control height, speed, and direction of the flier.

Inch said, “The raiders got in treacherously by wearing white and black. The Bowmen were very bitter about that.”

“I just hope Seg is all right.”

“From what you tell me of Seg, I think he can take care of himself.”

Delia.

If she had been harmed — I did not relish that swift flight across the Ocher Limits to The Dragon’s Bones. I couldn’t remain still. I paced up and down the sundeck, flicking my rapier this way and that, aching, shivering, shrunken. Black thoughts flitted like evil bats through my brain. The barren wastes, rugged and harsh, fled past beneath. The hot wind scorched into my face and stung my eyes. I could not descend into that sumptuous cabin where the Kovneva Katrin had besought me. I stayed on the sun-deck and Inch kept everyone away, and, up there, alone, I suffered through that blistering journey.

Inch had never met Delia. I know, now, that he came to a full understanding of what she meant to me. Away ahead I saw the yellow-umber landscape with its dry gulches and its powdery screes lifting to a serrated ridge, saw-toothed, jagged. Across this we flew, and I was very conscious how this evil land fitted my mood. Beyond, in a depression, lay a fumarole. We flew over it and then another. This whole area looked much as the surface of Earth’s moon looks, with volcano detritus and lava scattered everywhere, crater colliding and blending with crater. The glare of the twin suns beat back dazzlingly. There was no need for Inch to stand upon any rung of the ladder to lift his head to the sundeck level. He shouted back: “Strom Drak! We approach The Dragon’s Bones.”

“Come up here, Inch.”

He shambled up onto the sundeck and stood, braced against the slipstream, regarding me.

“They said, back there in Delka Dwa, that there was no one in all Vallia who would fight for the Emperor.”

“Aye,” said Inch, who had been a barge hauler.

“That may be true. I do not know and, truth to tell, do not much care. But there are men willing to fight for the Princess Majestrix.”

Inch looked at me. “Now I know,” he said. “I can feel a little sorrow for Tilda the Beautiful — and, by Ngrangi, for Viridia the Render, also.”

“You,” I said to Inch, and I spoke as reasonably as I could, and Inch, because he was my comrade, understood and remained patient and calm under the bitter lash of my voice. “Inch, go to the Blue Mountains. Go to High Zorcady. Ask for Korf Aighos, for I think he will have returned by now, recovered. If he has not, there will be other men willing to fight — aye, and die — for their Princess. Gather what men you can, in fliers, and bring them back here.”

“But,” said Inch, “this Hikdar Arkhebi — you remember our Arkhebi who took Strom Erclan’s place?

— he can take a message.” Inch’s eyebrows drew down. “I would rather fight at your side.”

“And dearly would I have you there, Inch, you long warrior, but” — and here I rolled out a foul Makki-Grodno oath — “I don’t trust him. Only you will carry the words to make them believe. Only Korf Aighos knows I am Dray Prescot, Krozair of Zy.”

Even Inch did not fully comprehend what that meant. No one could, who had not sailed the inner sea, the Eye of the World.

Inch grumbled a great deal and swung his ax about and looked every inch of his seven feet a disgruntled man, but in the end I persuaded him. I had to. The Delphondi for all their loyalty were useless — as I then thought — and only the Blue Mountain Boys and all the other bandits, reavers, and moss troopers of the Blue Mountains could offer help.

I placed the point of my rapier against Hikdar Arkhebi’s throat. It was a cheap gesture, theatrical, but I had summed up the man.

“You will fly directly to High Zorcady, Hikdar Arkhebi. Maybe, if you succeed, you will take the first step on the ladder leading to Jiktar. If you fail, you won’t be a Deldar — you’ll be a corpse, swinging rotting in a gibbet!”

“Yes, my lord Strom!” he gasped out, his lips ashen.

“And Inch, here, who is to be addressed as Tyr Inch, has my permission — no! by the Black Chunkrah!

my orders — to degut you the instant you try to betray me. Is that clear?”

He gobbled it out. “Yes, my lord Strom!”

They landed me short of my target, which appeared to be a crater filled with bones, and Arkhebi took the airboat in a wide circle around The Dragon’s Bones, and so on over the horizon to the west. I stepped out smartly, for I was anxious to get where I was going. I wanted to speak with Trylon Nath Larghos of the Black Mountains. If he died, that would be his misfortune. I was approaching where my Delia was in deadly danger, and nothing could be allowed to stand in the way of her safety.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

With Trylon Larghos at The Dragon’s Bones

“So you did receive the message I left at The Rose of Valka,” said Nath Larghos. “But why are you afoot? What took you so long?”

He eyed me strangely. I had myself under control. The Emperor, Delia, and their men were shut up in the mass of ruins at the center of the crater. Various roads led in and out scraped in the rock and dust, with the enormous bones dragged aside. They were risslaca bones, mainly, although there were some from mammals of a later time, all fossilized, a veritable treasure for paleontologists. I forced myself to act normally. Just for the moment, Delia’s danger lay in abeyance.

“That Opaz-rotten storm,” I grunted. “The airboat failed. One day, by Vox, we must teach those cramphs of Havilfar a lesson.”

“Agreed, Strom Drak.” He led me off to a cluster of tents. “Come, sit and drink wine and refresh yourself. You need a shave, if you will pardon the liberty of my mentioning it.”

“Mayhap,” I said, “I will grow a beard, Trylon.”

The Circadian rhythms of my Earth ancestry adapted well to the longer day-and-night cycle of Kregen, and I had quickly adjusted — and, if the truth be told — with some relish, to the idea that a day demanded not four square meals but at the least six and preferably seven or eight. We sat and drank wine — a fine vintage of Procul, rich and fortifying — and I knew that before I did what I screamed and hungered to do and rushed into the ruins to clasp Delia in my arms, I must find out everything I could of these third party members and their plans.

They had infiltrated all the other parties, the racters in particular, and built up a powerful and secret force. The headless zorcamen were their messengers, able to travel through the country where eyes would have followed the movements of any man wearing whatever colors. They had built up a network, and I heard news that struck me with a powerful horror. Trylon Larghos — of the Black Mountains! —

had set his own followers in motion against the men of the Blue Mountains.

“Those bandits who forever raid us would have tried to protect the Princess, their liege lord; as it is, they are out of the reckoning.”

I sat there, drinking stupid wine, and I trembled. And I had sent Inch there — I had sent him to his death!

Larghos went on to tell me how he had so arranged matters that one Kovnate, or any other great estate, had been set to put out of the issue the one most convenient. Neighbor had been set against neighbor. He rolled out the names with a kind of lip-licking glee. “Delphond, of course, means nothing in these affairs.”

“No,” I said, trying to speak normally. “They are a peaceful, luxury-loving lot down there.”

“So, Strom Drak. I am glad you have brought Valka in on the right side. I had bargained for that; I think I would not have enjoyed settling the Qua’voils against you.”

I stared at him, trying to mask my hatred. He would have loved doing that. The Qua’voils occupy the southeastern lobe of the large island to the west of Valka, and they are halflings, sharing the attributes of

— as the best way of so describing them — porcupines with those of men. They were — and here the old bitter jest turned sour in my mind — a thorn in the flesh of Valka. The large island to the west of Valka is called Canthirda. In the past it has been the scene of many bloody battles as Vallia, the main island, separated from Canthirda by a wide channel, sought to bring a single government over the whole archipelago. Many races had settled there and many species. The Qua’voils were always causing trouble. To the north of them the Emperor had settled in new lands a dependency of Relts, those more gentle cousins of the Rapas. The Valkas got on well with them, and it was to their land that Tom of Vulheim had advised me to go when I had sought to escape from Valka and reach Vallia, only to be halted by the express commands of the Star Lords in lightning and thunder. Now Larghos was speaking of fresh foulness.

“Those stupid bird-brained Relts! Now, Strom Drak, you must send orders to your warriors to join with the Qua’voils and march against the Relts. We will take over all of Canthirda and run it as it is meant to be run.” He chuckled. “A Relt can haul a barge as well as anyone else, I fancy.”

I managed to get out: “They remained loyal to the Emperor, Trylon?”

“More fool them. So did the Pallan Eling. I fancy he wishes he had joined us. The leader has already appointed another man as Pallan of Canals.”

Not knowing what Larghos had put in the letter, save that it must have summoned me to join the revolt, I could not inquire after this leader. I had thought Trylon Larghos that man. He was looking pleased, so I ventured to congratulate him on being appointed the Pallan of Canals.

“You are right Strom Drak. . . The Pallans who will run the Presidio under the leader are all chosen. I feel that you will soon rise to office, should you wish to do so.”

“That day may come, Trylon Larghos.”

The attack on the tumbled mass of ruins was not being prosecuted with much zeal. I heard that a couple of hundred or so Bowmen of Loh, with other mercenaries, were shut up with the Emperor. They had bloodily repulsed the first impulsive attack. Now Larghos was waiting for the arrival of the leader with reinforcements. I talked more, seeming affable — and wanting to drive my dagger into this man’s guts —

and I learned.

He commented on the longbow, and I said I found it useful, although I would not care to shoot against a crimson Bowman. I knew that Seg Segutorio, the best bowman that Erthyrdrin — and therefore Loh —

had produced, had shot against me, and although he had won, it had been by a whisker. I had to learn the plans.

Drinking wine made Larghos boastful. “What are these talked-of Lohvian bowmen? Merely archers. They caught us in the open, unprepared, but the next time — why, the leader is bringing with him five hundred Undurkers. The crimson Bowmen have idled away their time, living in luxury provided by the Emperor, living on money extorted from us! The Undurkers can outshoot the Lohvians, by Vomer the Vile!”

I did not believe that, and I had experience to go on; but, certainly, the compound bows of the Undurkers were powerful and their reputation ferocious. I felt more and more fidgety, sitting here, drinking and talking; but for the moment Delia was safe and I was doing more valuable work here than blindly rushing into the ruins.

I walked about the third party’s camp, after a while, and Larghos gave me a great green and purple favor to wear in my hat. I saw the men they had, the mercenaries, men who would remain loyal while they were paid and their duty unfinished. Tents had been set up. There was no siege equipment of any kind that I could see. The leader might bring some, went the word. The suns would soon decline in the west. I felt I had learned all that was useful. The next big attack would go in through an archway of bones, through the gigantic skeletons of monstrous dinosaurs dead a million years or more. I looked out from the jump-off point and marked the way to go.

I had asked Larghos about Vomanus, his candidate.

“Vomanus! If I see him I shall slay him. He must have guessed he was being used merely as a front. Once the Emperor was out of his palace we had him at our mercy. Vomanus agreed to invite him to Vindelka. He trusted Vomanus, for the sake of Tharu, when he would not have trusted one of us. Vomanus warned the Emperor, but they fled here. That old fool Pallan Eling told us. He was glad to tell us.”

He looked sharply at me. I nodded.

“So,” he went on. “As soon as the Emperor is dead, the leader will take over. His candidate will wed the Princess. Then we can all count the loot.”

I fiddled with the crimson Bowman’s shooting glove I had taken from him. I use a bracer and a shooting glove when they are available; like any Bowman of Loh I can shoot without them if I have to. It is a knack.

All across to the east stretched the badlands of the Ocher Limits. Oh, they were nowise as strange and fearful as the Owlarh Waste over which I had tramped leaving the Hostile Territories. And they did not compare with the Klackadrin, that frightful place of hallucinations and the risslaca riding risslaca, the Phokaym. The Klackadrin is a great rift in the planet’s crust, gaseous, poisonous, fatal. The Ocher Limits were merely badlands. But that meant I wouldn’t walk out without plentiful supplies and much water. A shout went up and we turned our backs on the twin suns as they oblated in weird runnelings of jade and crimson, and stared up to see a fleet of fliers swinging in over the Ocher Limits. Bright pinpricks of light against the swathing darkness dropping down, they circled once. Then with a neat precision that, once again, made me give that mental nod of admiration for flier pilots, they settled onto the ocher sands. Five hundred archers from the islands of Undurkor!

With them were many other mercenaries, men willing to fight for pay. Well, I had been a mercenary in my time, aye, and was to be again, as you will hear. Fristles, Ochs, Rapas, Brokelsh, Womoxes, and men, they crowded from the fliers, laughing and exchanging rough jokes with comrades from bygone campaigns they recognized in the crowd waiting to greet them. Among them the yellow skins and shaven heads of the Chuliks stood out, grim and menacing and altogether malefic. I went with Trylon Larghos. I stood in the last of the mingled opaz light falling about the animated scene to greet this leader who would kill the Emperor and take his place, who would marry his own candidate to the Princess Majestrix.

With the feeling that it was my duty to count heads and to appraise potential in fighting, I studied the new arrivals.

Of the halflings I knew — and some were there I do not mention, for I had not run across them in such a way as to merit detailed descriptions yet to you in these tapes — I was sure enough that I knew their capabilities.

The Undurkers I knew, for they came from a string of islands situated in that enormous bay pent between the giant peninsula of South Segesthes and the smaller boot-shaped promontory to the west that separates Zenicce from Port Paros. We saw them often in Zenicce, and they had even made the attempt at a few settlements in Segesthes itself. But they seldom ventured onto the Great Plains. I rather fancied my wild clansmen would be a trifle too tough for them there.

Their conversation was loud and confident, brash, I thought. They carried their bows already strung and in fancifully decorated bow-sheathes slung under their left arms on straps, making a saltire shape with their arrow quivers. The bows themselves were very much like those of my clansmen, curved, compound, reflex, fabricated from horn, bone, and wood, with brilliant silver fittings. Lovers of ostentation to an extreme degree, are the Undurkers. Their faces always remind me of the snooty, supercilious, offended faces of borzois. Except for their eyes, which are mounted higher up for the essential binocular vision required, they do look like borzois — and that higher mounting for the eyes adds, if anything, to their expression of continual superiority.

They formed their camp a little apart from the rest of the brawling throng, where already, I guessed, some old scores were being paid off. A mercenary makes enemies as he goes through life. A young Strom with Larghos’ party laughed nervously, and fingered his rapier hilt. An older Vad, with a beard far too long for current fashions, boomed a laugh and clapped the young Strom on the back, and bade him bear up and face the future, when the Emperor was dead, and men could plunge their hands to the elbows in rich red gold.

These Undurkers wore coiled artificial headdresses of hair plaited and colored from which rose their squarish helmets. Their clothes, of good Lohvian silks and Segesthan hides, were studded with bits of metal and base gems; their Jiktars would wear real gems. Their feet were hidden in heavy boots, and I knew why; the hands of the Undurkers are hands that would not look amiss hanging on the wrists of a man, but in their paws they betray their canine origin. They are, as the Gons are ashamed of their manes of white hair, ashamed of their hind-paws, and always wear heavy concealing boots. That was their business. I wanted a glimpse of the leader — and then nothing would stop me from heading through the piles of bones to the ruins in the center and all that waited there. Food, drink, and fuel had been brought in and the camp fires blazed into the night sky, obliterating the last lingering ruby drops scattered across the western horizon as Zim sank in the wake of Genodras. I saw Berran the Vadvar of Rifuji, a lean dyspeptic man with a nervous tic about his left eye, laughing and jesting, and marked him, for his Jiktars were leading his men against Vomansoir to keep them out of play. Over most of Vallia that might have any hand in this business the third party had cast the web of their intrigues so that here, in isolation, the Emperor might be murdered and the new leader proclaimed. This was more than a palace revolution; this work would drench the empire in blood and overturn old dynasties, set men’s thoughts and actions into new paths that might last a thousand years. Around the campfires I took a heaping handful of roast vosk. I was not too proud to eat with these men, for all that I might be slaying them before the Maiden of the Many Smiles had crossed the heavens. I shoved the six quivers of arrows away on the strap holding them together; I kept my eye on them.

“Hai, Strom Drak!” said Larghos, very merry, quaffing his wine, his eyes beads of glitter in the firelight. He swaggered over with a bunch of men of whom I knew some, and whom I knew I would make myself acquainted better later on. “The leader is busy, there is much to do, but he will see you when he can spare the time.”

I swallowed vosk and nodded.

The thought came to me then that it might be accounted a great deed — as true Jikai — if when we met I plunged my rapier through the body of this leader.

Even today, I cannot say if I would have done that deed or not.

The leader stood by a great fire, half turned from me, talking to a group of the nobles of the third party caught up in his schemes. With them stood the Chuktar of the Undurkers. At the leader’s side stood a younger man, laughing and full of merriment. This was the third party’s candidate for the hand of the Princess Majestrix, through whose marriage the leader would seek to legitimize his claim to the throne. Larghos led me forward.

“Here is Berran, Vadvar of Rifuji,” said Larghos. “And here also is Drak, Strom of Valka.”

We went forward into the firelight.

The leader turned, a goblet of wine in his hand.

I saw him.

It was Naghan Furtway, Kov of Falinur.

At his side, laughing and jesting, stood his nephew, Jenbar.

I froze, for a stupid moment held in a stasis of self-contempt. These were the two I had rescued from the Mountains of the North at the instance of the Star Lords. I had saved their lives so that they might destroy mine and the girl’s I loved.

Jenbar stopped laughing.

“Who?” he said. He peered closer.

“Berran, Vadvar—” began Larghos.

“No. The other.”

“Drak, Strom of Valka.”

“No, by Vox!” said Jenbar. His laughter returned, bright and evil in the firelight. His uncle looked at me. Kov Furtway stared at me — and I knew his thoughts, as those of his nephew’s, went back with mine to those icy slopes and snowy mountains. They had known and had planned all this, then, and how they must have mocked their secret knowledge of me, then!

Furtway said, “We were surprised and disappointed when you disappeared from Therminsax. We would have taken you to Vondium, as you wished.”

“Aye, by Vox!” said Jenbar, chuckling. “And the Emperor would have been mightily pleased to receive you.”

“As, indeed, he did receive you.” Furtway’s smile altered in character. “Although how in the name of the Invisible Twins you escaped him I do not know.”

“What?” said Trylon Larghos. “What are you saying, Kov?”

“Why, Nath Largos, do you not know who this man is, the man you call Drak, Strom of Valka?”

Larghos saw the evil undercurrents running here, and he stammered, and was silent. His fear of this leader, who was Kov Furtway of Falinur, was very great.

I poised. Flight! I, Dray Prescot, the Lord of Strombar, Krozair of Zy, must run from my foemen! Well, I had done that before, not often, and would do so again; now I must live to reach my Delia, stand by her side, and defy the might of Vallia arrayed against us.

“Chuktar Uncar,” said Furtway. “Feather me this fool with arrows! Pull him down as the trags pull down a leem!”

The Undurker unshipped his bow. Larghos was babbling. Jenbar was laughing.

“That man, you fools,” shouted Furtway, “is Dray Prescot! That wild clansman, the Lord of Strombor!

Slay him!”

I swung about and ran from the firelight and into the avenue of dinosaur bones. And as I ran the whispering rain of arrows whistled about me and clanged from those millennia-old bones in a sleeting shower of death.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“. . . fit to be called Prince Majister of Vallia.”

The very tangle and interlacing tapestry of bones over and under which I leaped and dived saved me. One arrow only nicked me, a slicing shear through the leather over my left shoulder; a scratch, nothing. I dodged and ducked as best I could. These ancient bones, fossilized over the millennia and then cast adrift once again on the desiccated surface of the secret crater where these great beasts had trekked to die, surrounded me and in a weird and ghoulish way afforded me protection. The arrows sleeted about the iron-hard bones. I heard their chiming, like the bells of the damned, and I ran and leaped. One chance alone was left me now. A roaring bellow of rage pursued me. Kov Furtway had let loose his mercenaries, and the Undurkers, their proud supercilious noses high, were after me. I remember as I ran, hurdling risslaca vertebrae and all the scattered skeletons of giants of the past, that I had a most uncharitable thought about these halflings from Undurkor. Their long noses meant they could not turn their heads when loosing, otherwise the strings would have given them bloody stripes down those snouts. They used a short compound bow, and they must draw it as far as they might, to the chest, the lip, the nose. It is from the long throw of the great longbow that all its awful power is obtained, that long energy-storing thrust that gives range and penetration, when the shorter flatter staccato of the small bow slaps out jerkily.

Mind you — if an Undurker arrow skewered me now it would be just as painful as a cloth-yard shaft. The moons of Kregen floated past above and the shadows shifted strangely among that fossilized forest of bones. The hard clatter of booted feet pursued me. I ran. I dodged. There was no time for that old Krozair trick I so joyed in employing, of turning about and swatting the arrows away with my sword, something after the style of a flick-flick gobbling up flies on the wing.

“I’ll marmelize you!” a voice screeched at my back.

I ignored that kind of drivel.

I kept my bowstave horizontal so as not to foul the arching rib cages. Had my bow been strung — for like any frugal bowman I kept the stave unstrung when possible — I’d have risked a turn and a shot. But I kept on. Inky shadows barring the path succeeded by patches of pink moonlight passed, and I raced on. The avenue twisted and turned where bones too large and heavy to lift from the way imposed a turning. These serpentine windings saved me. I roared out into a cleared area. In a great circle the bones enclosed this area like a fence of fossils. In the center rose the tumbled pile of ruins. I made out three corners of a tower, shafting up like a rotten tooth. Masses of rock lay strewn haphazardly. A few lights glimmered. I had to cross this open space somehow.

Head down I started off at a tremendous pace, my Earthly muscles gaining full effect from Kregen’s gravity, knowing I had at best but a few murs before the first of my pursuers appeared at the mouth of the tunnel-like avenue through the bones.

As I went I shouted. I used up breath to bellow a warning of my approach.

“Friend!” I roared. “I’m Strom Drak! Let me in!”

A long arrow skeeted past my head. I let out a blistering Makki-Grodno oath and lifted my voice, as on this Earth I had hailed the foretop in a gale, and told them what I thought of a Vox-spawned Opaz-forgotten cramph of a bowman who tried to spit a comrade.

With all the hullabaloo I very nearly miscalculated and left my first dodging weaving too late. I slanted my run and then zigzagged back, and six arrows clumped against the rock, to carom ahead. Three of them snapped across, whereat I took note and would have smiled, were I given to that kind of facial contortion in interesting moments like this.

“Undurkers!” I screeched. “Feather a few rasts for me!”

I was almost there, now, in the shadow cast by one moon. Over my head rustled the near-silent covey of long arrows. I dodged again and then dived into the sprawled mass of ruins with the shrieks of skewered halflings in my ears.

I rolled over and jumped up. “By Vox! That sounds better for a fighting-man to hear!”

Seg said, “You took a chance, dom. I only just managed to knock Hakli’s bow up in time.”

“I knew you must have done so, Seg. Since when does a Bowman of Loh miss a running target coming straight for him!”

The dark crimson shape at Seg’s side chuckled. “Aye, Seg Segutorio. This Drak of whom you spoke is indeed a man.”

In the moonshot darkness a line of bowmen sank down into their places in the shelter of rocks and tumbled slabs of masonry. Hakli, his fire-red hair a weird color under the moons, chuckled again, and took up his station. “The cramphs have crept back among the bones, where they belong.”

“They’ll be out again, Hakli,” I said. “They have archers of Undurkor with them now.”

“Children with toddlers’ bows, by Hlo-Hli! Flint fodder!”

I turned to Seg. “The Princess Majestrix, Seg. Where is she?”

Seg looked at me. I saw the lines on his face in the streaming pink moonshine.

“Delia? She is not with us.”

Once again that frightful sensation of the solid ground beneath my feet turning and plummeting sickeningly seized me. I gripped Seg’s arm. We moved away, into the shadows.

“What do you mean, she is not with you? She left in an airboat when these kleeshes attacked Delta Dwa. She must be here!”

“No, Dray. She did not come with us. I was aboard the flier in which the Emperor fled. She did not land here.”

There had been confusion when the Emperor, warned by Vomanus, had fled for safety to these ruins in The Dragon’s Bones. Vomanus liked to come here to study the old remains; it was a hobby. There had been worse confusion when the courtiers, retainers, and guards had landed here, a chaos made worse by the great storm that had swept up the airboats like idle leaves upon a river and swept them into shattered destruction against the massive array of bones. Seg could have been mistaken.

“We’re short on food and water, Dray. There have been a few attacks, not many, and we held them off without trouble. But the men may not fight if they are not fed.”

“They have Undurkers with them out there now, Seg. If the crimson Bowmen of Loh do not fight, the Emperor is a dead man.” I looked into the ruins. “I will seek him out now. Delia must be here. If she is not — he may know where she is.”

Seg, looking at my face in the shadows, coughed, and said: “Remember, my old sea-leem. He is the Emperor. He is surrounded still by his men.”

“I know, Seg. But I have come here to find Delia—” I told him, then, that I had sent Inch to what might be his death.

Seg said, “From what you tell me of Inch, Dray, he will fight his way out of anything.”

I warmed at that. Seg’s tour of sentry duty being finished he accompanied me as I went to find the Emperor. On all sides among the ruins the mercenaries were camped, and they appeared to be a sullen, dispirited lot. I could imagine the frightful problems they were revolving in their minds. A mercenary fights for pay and will remain loyal, but if you do not pay him, if you do not feed him and give him wine . . .

“Welcome, Strom Drak!” The Emperor held out his hand and we gripped in the Vallian way. He looked exhausted, with the betraying dark smudges beneath his eyes, his cheeks sunken. But there remained about him the same indomitable iron determination that kept his place as Emperor; this man would never give in until they shoveled earth down onto him. Perhaps that was where we differed, for I would not give in until I had clawed my way up and thrown down those hurling the dirt on me. “You are right welcome, Strom Drak. It is good to find loyal men still in Vallia.”

The silly old fool! He thought I had fought my way here to rescue him, or to help him in his defense!

Idiot! Onker! Calsany!

“Where is the Princess Majestrix, Majister?”

“I do not know.” He made a flat, dismissive gesture. “At least, she is not trapped here with us. But, soon, my loyal subjects will arrive, as you have, Strom Drak, and will destroy utterly those treacherous rasts led by the Trylon Larghos, may Vox tear his guts out with white-hot pincers.”

“But, Majister,” I said. “The Princess Delia — she must—” I swallowed. I shook and couldn’t stop myself. The Emperor looked coldly at me, for no stranger, no man not of the family, unless given permission, may call the Princess Majestrix anything other than that. Her name, like her person, is sacred.

“She was in an airboat — the storm — those mad leem out there . . .”

Pallan Rodway, the minister in charge of the Treasury, took my arm and tried to wheel me away from the Emperor. I would not be maneuvered. I glared at them, at this Emperor and the few loyal nobles and Pallans remaining to him as we stood in that shattered tower surrounded by ruins.

“Where is she!” I yelled it; it was a demand. “The Princess Majestrix!”

The Emperor returned my glare with all the apoplectic fury of complete authority. I saw that malignant glitter in his eyes and I know my eyes returned the same ugly, evil, hateful, utterly damn-you-to-hell look. What might have happened then I do not know — and didn’t care, by Zim-Zair, then! — but the moment was broken by two almost simultaneous events.

A voice spoke, a voice I knew: “Well met, Drak! Come and drink wine with me, for there is much to tell.”

I said, “Your words to me, Vomanus, were: ‘I will do as you ask.’ Do you remember?”

He came forward into the torchlight. “I remember.” He looked just the same, handsome, careless, above the petty run of party politics, and yet. . .

And then a Chulik mercenary let out a tremendous bellow.

“The cramphs! They attack! The Undurkers! They come!”

I unslung the great Lohvian longbow and with the smooth practiced forward jerk, strung it. I looked at Seg and at Vomanus. Here one was a mere private Koter in the Emperor’s bodyguard, the other a lord of a province; to me they were comrades both. We went to the perimeter of the ruins and we vied one bowman with another, in our picking off of the supercilious Undurkers as they strove to outshoot us. Nothing on Kregen, as I understood it then, outshoots the Lohvian longbow. The warriors of Kov Furtway, attacking, were feathered into heaps and piles as they sought to rush from the ruins under the cover of their own arrow shower. Oh, we took casualties. But we held that attack and hurled it back; at only one point did it come to handblows, and then our Chuliks with their chilling ferocity smashed the first wave, and the second recoiled and ran.

The metal-adorned backs of the mercenaries vanished into the fossilized forest of bones. Our wounded were cared for. The fourth moon, She of the Veils, cast down her pinkish light and picked out in a roseate glow the glimmer of weapons, the gleam from an eye-socket, the black sheen of blood, and the harsh rock and dust, the ring of bones, the ruins, the desolation.

Vomanus cornered me where a dead Rapa still clutched his sword, his bird-beak embedded in the dust, the Undurker arrow protruding through his neck.

“Dray! I never thought to see you alive again!”

We talked. Much of our conversation dealt with what I have already related to you. I found my surmise was true. He had allowed himself to become the candidate so as to discover the secret intentions of the Emperor’s enemies. His warning had been almost too late. “And now we are done for, anyway, I think, Dray. We have had bonny times, but they are over.”

From the corner of my eye I was aware of the dark crimson shape, hovering. I said, “Vomanus, tell me true — you have no desires to marry Delia? You continue to support me?”

“Of course! Need you ask? I have spoken with Delia, and no woman loved a man as she loves you.”

He chuckled, an incongruous sound in those surroundings. “Although why so ugly a looking devil as you should manage it when all the chivalry of Vallia have been spurned — Vox take it! But you are the man, Dray Prescot!”

I heard Seg gasp.

“Come here, Seg!”

These two, Vomanus of Vindelka and Seg Segutorio, stared at each other, and I recognized the amusement in me at their instinctive sizing up, their flash of temperament. I told them both a little of the fuller story, and finished: “So we three are dedicated to the service of Delia of Delphond. Very good. Very fine. But where, by the Black Chunkrah, is she?”

All that was certain was — she was not trapped with her father in the tumbled ruins at the center of The Dragon’s Bones.

Naturally, I immediately took stock of the situation with the single obsessive desire to get out. I could make a run for it, and once inside the tangle of bones, no man or beast-man would catch me. Covering that open space would be the tricky part, for I would be shot at by Undurkers in front and by Lohvian Bowmen from the rear. Of the two I gave the Lohvians the best bet on feathering me.

“Sink me!” I burst out, and the other two looked at me strangely. I knew I must appear a black-hearted devil to them, a harsh, intolerant — and intolerable — man who demanded instant obedience. But other thoughts occurred to me. This man we defended was Delia’s father. That he was the Emperor meant nothing in my book. But if I left now, and Furtway succeeded in murdering Delia’s father in cold blood

— what would she think? What would she think of me? I would be the man who had run away and left her father to die a miserable death.

Hell’s bells and buckets of blood!

I was in a cleft stick and it was damned uncomfortable.

Furtway flung his men in again, and this time they surged up to our parapet of stones. We had a few brisk moments when the swords rang and slithered, and men screeched with steel skewering their bellies. Then the third party mercenaries broke and we spitted them all the way back to the bone ramparts. Seg said, “I’m down to a dozen shafts.”

“Here, take these quivers.” I handed them out, sharing among the crimson Bowmen. They had lost all their Jiktars, their Chuktar was Opaz knew where, only three Deldars remained, and one badly wounded and dying Hikdar. Of the intermediate ranks, as you know, a man is called simply by the last and identifying portion of his full rank. Various organizations place varying numbers of degrees in each rank. The highest ranking of the three Deldars was a So-Deldar — that is, the third degree of Deldar — and he had seven more to go before he became a Hikdar. They were good men. But, as is my custom, I had been active in the fighting, shouting intemperate and callous orders in my brutal and domineering way, and they had listened to me, instinctively understanding that, for all my sins and ugly face, I was a leader, and they obeyed.

The Emperor came up and said abruptly, “Strom Drak. I have noticed how you fight, and I am pleased. Of the other matter we will talk by and by—”

I interrupted him. If you cannot imagine the full depth of my agony for Delia, the feelings of screaming madness possessing me, I can understand that. It has been given only to few men to grasp what I suffered then, and I would not wish that pain on anyone. So it was I interrupted the Emperor, and walked away, saying over my shoulder: “I will fight for you, Majister — aye, and slay those rasts for you! — but afterward we will talk, you and I.”

Pallan Rodway, a Vadvar, the High Kov of Erstveheim, two Stroms, and all the other nobles gasped their outrage. I was aware of Vomanus talking hurriedly with the Emperor; but another attack came in then and we were busily occupied in hurling the mercenaries back. But our numbers were thinning. I heard a Rapa grumbling that he had a throat drier than the Ocher Limits themselves. I gripped him by his clumsy throat, glared madly into his birdlike eyes, and I screamed at him that he’d be a dead Rapa before he drank again if he didn’t get back into the fight.

The Emperor watched all this. I was sane enough to realize that he was cunning enough to use men when it suited him; he had seen me fighting and wouldn’t arrest me — or make the attempt, Zair rot him! —

while I was useful to him. That’s how he had remained Emperor so long. I caught a whiff of perfume, a sweet, gagging stench, completely out of place in those surroundings. Across the clearing raced foemen to attack us. I looked quickly down and there, wedged into a crevice between rocks, crouched a man. He was sumptuously dressed, with a great deal of lace, silk, and golden ornaments. He wore a rapier. He smelled like a barber’s shop. I caught him by the collar and hauled him out.

“Get up and fight, you cramph!”

“No! No — I am no fighting-man!”

Once a Kregan reaches maturity he appears to age very little until the last years of his life, perhaps a few white hairs when he is a hundred and fifty or so; but I fancied this man was considerably older than my comrades. I kicked him.

“You fight, dom! You fight for your Emperor!”

An Undurker arrow whistled between us and clanged against the rock. He screeched. His face was covered in sweat. It sheened under She of the Veils like pink icing.

“Fight, cramph!”

He staggered up then, his face contorted into a look compounded of fear and hatred, pride and anger. For a second I thought he would take his place in the line of men and halflings now furiously battling with the waves of attackers as they sought to smash past the pitiful barrier of rocks. Then he crumpled and twisted away. In the wash of light I saw the colors, made meaningless by the pink moons’ light, but the emblem was unmistakable. It was a great butterfly so I knew those colors were gold and black.

“I do not want to die!” he moaned now, all the hatred and anger gone, and the pride slipping until only fear was left.

“We’ve all got to die some time, you calsany! Better in a great fight than rotten with disease in a bed!

Draw your sword! Fight!”

Some of the last vestiges of habitual unthinking pride clung to him and he looked up at me, a white face, delicate, weak, foolish. “Do you not know who I am, kleesh! I am Vektor, Kov of Aduimbrev! I do not take orders from a mere Strom.”

I looked at him, and the Emperor moved his hand. Pallan Rodway and the High Kov of Erstveheim, two old men and therefore not required in the fighting line, lifted Vektor by the armpits and took him away. I glared sullenly at the Emperor.

“That is Vektor of Aduimbrev! That is the thing you wish to marry your daughter!”

And then I laughed. I roared out a great coarse insulting gutter-bred laugh.

“You thought to rule him when he was married, keep him from getting in your hair! I despise you, Emperor Majister! You sought to soil your daughter by marrying her to a thing like that to serve your own dark and evil ways.” And then, because a wash of Chuliks poured in over the wall, such as it was, I pushed him aside. “Get yourself under cover or you will be killed.”

An Undurker arrow arched in over the ruins and dropped full for the Emperor’s chest. My rapier nicked out, cleanly as we Krozairs of Zy know how, and chopped the arrow away.

“Go on, you old fool Majister!” I roared. “I’ve a battle to fight and you’re getting under my feet!”

The Emperor stared at me with eyes in which an agony had been born. Vomanus ran up. His sword dripped blood.

“They’re through on the other side!”

“Thank the Emperor for that and the onker Vektor. They detained me when I should have been fighting. Get everyone back to the central tower, Vomanus. Move!”

He ran off and then the smash of Chuliks reached me and I had to skip and jump, slash and thrust, very busily for a space. I left the Chuliks stretched upon the dusty rocks and ran back. I could see the heads of the Bowmen of Loh in the ruined tower, but they were not loosing their deadly shafts. We had expended all our arrows.

The smaller arrows of the Undurkers were not of great use, but some of the Bowmen, who boasted they could loose a leg of ponsho and hit the chunkrah’s eye, let fly and brought down their men. Inside the tower I paused to take stock.

We had lost a lot of men. We were down to twenty-four Bowmen, and sixteen halfling mercenaries. Out there, Furtway, although he had lost large numbers, must still have three or four hundred to hurl against us. And without arrows we were in parlous state.

“Rocks!” I roared. “We will throw rocks down on them and break their skulls!”

“Aye!” shouted Seg Segutorio. “They haven’t a chance!”

The men reacted to that. Now they had faced the reality of the situation they knew they must fight on. One reality was, of course, that they had seen me thrust a Fristle through the body when he had attempted to run out toward our foemen, his hands empty and high over his head. That had not been murder. That had been execution of a traitor. I hated it, but it was done in the heat of battle, when the blood sang, when that dreadful and despised red curtain of which I have spoken drops before the eyes, and a man who is a man must struggle to reach past it. The other reality was less starkly brutal; much more of the mores of Kregen. They would earn their pay, these hireling soldiers. They had no complaints now about food and drink, for they sensed they might not live long enough to want. The Emperor approached me again. “Strom Drak, I would like to speak with you—”

“Not now, Majister. I’m busy. If you’ve a problem, see Vomanus, or Seg Segutorio.”

I spun away and roared vilely at two Chuliks who, in their eagerness to procure rocks for skull-crushing, were prizing loose a stone that would have brought down the upper corner ruins. As we sorted out that, I looked over the jagged masonry wall and saw quite clearly the quick energetic figures of Furtway’s men advancing. So Zim and Genodras had risen. So it was daylight.

“All the better for us to see them!” I roared. “They’ll be sorry they messed with us!”

We met the enemy as they advanced with a shower of rocks. Men fell, to join the piles of other bodies feathered with the long Lohvian arrows. But they pressed on. I looked for Furtway, Jenbar, and Larghos. Some new dynamic had been injected into the attack. They came on with a firm tread, ignoring their casualties, and so burst into the foot of the tower. I had ordered everyone aloft on the single rickety platform remaining. From this we hurled down rocks. Arrows sought us. Every now and then a Bowman or a halfling would clutch himself, looking stupidly at the arrow in him, and then pitch forward to crash to the stones beneath. Around then I realized — and despaired as far as ever I allow myself to despair —

that the men with me believed all was lost. They did not think we would live through this. The Emperor with his nobles had been perched right at the top in the highest of the three angled corners remaining. I prowled the canted platform below, urging my men to conserve their rocks and to hurl only when a foeman attempted too boldly to climb. I had brought us into an impasse. This was not my way of fighting. I couldn’t get at those rasts down there.

There were few enough of us left now for a breakout to be a possibility. It was our only chance to save the Emperor and his men. I had to make that attempt to save him now. For my Delia’s sake. I went up and told him.

He looked at me, and a look on his face I could not fathom made me return it with as ugly a glare as any I have bestowed on an unfortunate in my life.

“We stand a good chance now, Majister, and we will leave no one behind except the wounded who cannot run. And,” I added bitterly, “they are mostly below, poor devils, well on their way to the Ice Floes of Sicce.”

The Emperor said, “You are a wild and strange man, Drak. I thought this even when I heard of your exploits on Valka, when I signed your patent of nobility.” He pulled and pushed a ring on his middle left finger. “Well, Strom Drak. If you save me alive from here, I will do more than make you a Strom, or a Vad, or a Kov. You will be fit to be called Prince Majister of Vallia.”

“You’ll have to tie up your garments,” I said. “And take a good grip on my tunic, and belt. If you let go I can’t save you. I shall need both hands for climbing.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes. No time now. Titles mean nothing to me. Your life, Majister, means only something you wouldn’t understand.”

Vomanus came over and reported a stir below. I looked down.

Trylon Larghos was there, full of life and good cheer, beaming up, confident of victory.

“Let me speak to the Emperor!”

I hurled a rock at him and, stupidly, missed, for he jumped aside. The rock splintered and a chip struck him in the eye, and screeching and spouting blood over his hands as he clasped his face, he collapsed. I went up again.

“Now is the time, Majister.” He was ready. Vomanus and Seg assisted the other old men. We went to the back of the tower and squeezed through the lower windows. Opposite us the forest of petrified bones glittered in the mingled opaz light. We began that climb down the walls. The Emperor hung on my back a dead weight. I watched a Fristle let go and scream his way to the ground, landing in a red puddle, and I cursed the fool for betraying what we were doing.

We slid, slipped, and scraped our way down. In the song that has been made of the fight at The Dragon’s Bones, the tempo becomes mocking here, talking of the loss of skin, the sweat in our eyes, the ripped fingernails, and the blood-streaks down the ruined walls. But that is the Kregan way. They often mock where their emotions run deep.

We reached the floor of the clearing and at once we started for the bones opposite. I thought we would make it.

“Go on, Majister! I will take the rear — just in case.”

They ran on, a clump of old men, halflings, and Bowmen. I found Seg at my side, and Vomanus at the other. All our weapons were caked with blood. I spoke viciously.

“Go on, you two! Stick with the Emperor.”

Vomanus said, “You have been giving us orders very freely, Dray. Now, I think, we will disobey you.”

Seg said, “You go with the Emperor, Dray, if you like.”

Comrades.

We would do it. We were almost there.

A great swirling flood of mercenaries burst around the shattered corner of the tower and raced across the dust toward us. Many races and species were there, all thirsting for our blood. I could hear their shrill shrieks of triumph.

“Run, Majister!” I roared. “Run, by Vox, run for the sake of your daughter.”

He half turned to look back, and I waved my rapier at him and yelled: “I didn’t come here to rescue you! But you’re rescued now! Get in among the bones and you’re safe! Run!”

Then we three, Seg, Vomanus, and I, turned to face the death running so swiftly upon us.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Delia

A great song has been made of the fight at The Dragon’s Bones, but I will not give you its title. It runs to a mere seventy-eight stanzas, but every one is turned and polished like a gemstone, and when I hear it the blood thumps and thrills through my veins. Perhaps, at least to me, there is no finer passage than that which follows. But I, speaking in English, can only tell you in my plain sailorman’s prose what happened. You must dream of the wonder-images, the defeat and triumph, the despair and hope, the smell of blood and sweat, the slick taste of dust, the feel of a rapier hilt hard in the fingers, the main-gauche gripped in the left fist; hear the devilish shrieks and yells of the wounded and maimed, the screams of the dying. You must blend all this into a mighty uproar in the brain.

We fought.

Vomanus was a fine rapier man, as I knew. Seg Segutorio was the finest archer in two worlds. Yet we would not have lasted more than a few murs, but for the wonder.

How to tell you of that moment?

We heard yells, surprised shouts, and the press upon us slackened. We could gulp for air, wipe the sweat from our foreheads, and look about. We were all wounded, but we lived. We looked about, we looked up — oh, the wonder, the wonder of it!

The sky filled with airboats.

They slanted down from the east, so that I guessed Inch must have swung his fleet from the Blue Mountains around. And in that I was wrong. Gloriously wrong!

The fliers landed in the clearing and men poured out.

Such men!

I didn’t believe it then. I just stood there, my mouth open, my rapier and dagger hanging limply, and any onker of a rast could have run me through as I gaped.

The very first man to hit the dusty rock of the clearing wore russet leathers, tasseled and fringed, with cunning pieces of armor strapped where they would protect the most. He wore a helmet, but I knew his hair was fair and bleached by the Suns of Antares. He swung an ax, double-bitted and daggered with six niches of flat-bladed steel. Belted at his side swung a great broadsword and a deadly shortsword. Over his back he carried, ready strung, a short reflex compound bow.

Hap Loder!

Running swiftly with him was a ferocious being all dun-colored hide and bristly bullet-head, massive shoulders, and short sinewy legs, clad in as brilliant a scarlet breech-clout as you will find on Kregen. He wore parts of armor, too, and carried a rapier and main-gauche. I smiled, guessing he had been taking lessons.

Gloag!

With these two ran a young man clad all in powder blue, with an elegant and handsome appearance, his bronzed face keen and his black eyes alert. He wore cropped hair beneath his steel cap. He handled his rapier and main-gauche with superb authority, a true bravo-fighter of Zenicce. Varden! Prince Varden Wanek of the House of Eward!

Following on rushed a great crowd of men clad in the russet leathers of my clansmen, the brave scarlet of Strombor, the powder blue of Eward — and there were even a few bravos wearing the silver and black of the Reinmans, and the crimson and gold of the Wickens.

I saw those old familiar faces — Loku, Rov Kovno, Ark Atvar, fierce merciless clansmen sworn in obi brotherhood to me. And — and by Diproo the Nimble-fingered! There ran Nath the Thief, dressed up in clansmen’s russets and the scarlet of Strombor, with an empty lesten-hide bag flapping at his side ready to be filled with the loot his nimble fingers could close on!

How I stared!

My men — my ferocious Clansmen of Felschraung with their horrendous axes and broadswords, and my bravo-fighters of Strombor! I had not seen them for long and long; but they had not forgotten me, for as they smashed like a solid wall of iron and steel into the panic-stricken mob of Furtway’s mercenaries, they were yelling and roaring it out: “Hai! Jikai! Dray Prescot! Jikai!”

My clansmen roared in a deep rolling thunder of noise: “Hai! Zorcander! Hai! Vovedeer!” With the last they exaggerated, as they always did.

My men of Strombor roared in a high fierce screeching: “Hai! Strombor! Strombor!”

Furtway’s men had little chance — hell! — they had no chance at all!

My clansmen, the most ferocious and brave warriors in all Kregen, simply smashed over the rapiers and daggers like a single wave blots out a fragile bridge. A few Undurkers let fly with their arrows, and from the rear ranks of the clansmen rose a sheeting storm from the cruel reflex bone and horn bows, and the Undurkers fled. They had recognized clansmen, and however impossible it was for clansmen to be here in the heart of Vallia — they were here, in iron and steel and blood!

The axes rose and fell. The great broadswords scythed. The shortswords stabbed, in and out, very deadly.

Then Vomanus, who had been staring with the eyes goggling in his head, shouted and pointed. A second aerial armada settled down in the space cleared of dinosaur bones. The first man out was Inch, waving his huge Saxon-pattern ax, roaring into action to chop at an angle into the crazed mob of Furtway’s mercenaries. I did not see the Kov Furtway, or his nephew Jenbar, or the wounded Trylon Larghos, but word was brought to me they had managed to escape. And I was willing they should go, for the score between us lay on a personal basis. Much more important, though, was the fact that the Star Lords wanted Furtway alive for their own schemes. I had been prepared to balk them and see the man slain for what he had tried to do, but I own I felt a certain relief, a cowardly relief, if you will, that the Star Lords would not have reason to toss me back to Earth.

Following Inch and his Saxon ax raced Korf Aighos at the head of the Blue Mountain Boys. I saw the way many swung the great sword of war of the Blue Mountains, even Ob-eye, and the flash and glitter from sharp-honed edges before they stained a more sinister hue.

After that it was all over. Then — I did shout.

“Majister! You may come out of the bones, now. You are safe.”

He crawled out. He tried to arrange his robes, but they were torn and bedraggled. The sacred emblem strung around his neck winked blindingly in a flash of gold as he lifted his head. He did not look frightened, of that he cannot stand accused. But there was about him an air of shrunken pride and tawdry magnificence, the arrogance shredded away to a reality he had never had to face before. He walked slowly toward me followed by his retinue of old men. Among them I could not see Kov Vektor. And then, for me at least, came the greatest wonder of all.

My men had fashioned a litter of dinosaur bones and over it flung a great scarlet silk, very grand in the suns-light. Golden cushions bestrewed the scarlet silk. They had lifted the litter high, proudly. Reclining there, warm and vibrant and altogether magnificent against the gold and scarlet, holding in her left hand the staff of Old Superb, my old flag with the yellow cross on the red field — Delia!

They carried her, those men of mine, they carried her proudly as befitted a princess. And no princess in two worlds ever had so proud or gallant a party so to carry her. My men! They carried my Princess in triumph before me, and over all waved the old flag of mine, Old Superb, as men called that flag, waving in the streaming mingled light from the twin Suns of Scorpio.

I heard Vomanus smother an exclamation. Then he and Seg were running, and in a twinkling they, too, were carrying that precious burden high before the Emperor of Vallia. That Emperor, that proud man, looked at me most uncertainly.

“They shout a name, I think,” he said. “Do you not hear the name they shout, Strom Drak?”

“Oh, aye, Majister, I hear.” I would not take my eyes off my Delia to stare at him. His voice reached me, whispering. “I am the Emperor, the Emperor of Vallia, the greatest power in Kregen.” He might believe that; I did not, not when Havilfar provided airboats and those mysterious ships raided up from the southern oceans. “I keep my word,” said Delia’s father. “And, in truth, I believed myself already dead, and the promise of no great value.”

Delia was smiling at me. I stared back, entranced.

“What promise was that?”

“I said that if you rescued me I would make you Prince Majister, Strom Drak.”

“Oh, yes, I remember.” I lifted my voice. I shouted to my men as they drew near bearing the dear form of my Princess. “Hai! Jikai!” And I hailed them, High Jikai, every one, by name. The High Jikai is not lightly given on Kregen.

It came to me then in those tumultuous moments that nothing is purely perfect. There were two more faces I would fain have seen in that throng bearing so high and proudly my Delia, my Delia of Delphond. I would dearly have loved to see Nath and Zolta, my two oar-comrades, from far Sanurkazz. But that could not be, and I doubted not but that the Star Lords by their prior designs had thwarted that accomplishment, which would have been very great and wonderful indeed. The dinosaur-bone litter lowered. Then I saw how my Delia was dressed as the great yellow and red flag lofted away. She wore the scarlet breechclout of Strombor. And over her shoulders gleamed those magnificent silky white ling furs I had won for her on the Plains of Segesthes. Lithely, her long lissome legs very wonderful to behold, she stepped down from the litter and ran to me. My Delia, my Delia of Delphond, my Delia of the Blue Mountains! She ran to me and threw herself into my arms and she was laughing, sobbing, and crying my name, over and over.

“Hush, hush, my darling,” I said. “And tell me how you did it.”

It was superbly simple. Her airboat had been driven by that westerly gale and sent wildly toward the east, so that any hopes of her summoning rescue from the Blue Mountains had vanished. So — she had flown on to Strombor! And in their regular visits during the season Hap Loder and my Clansmen of Felschraung and Longuelm had been there, also. They had scoured the whole of Zenicce for airboats, and by gold and thievery — and here Nath the Thief hopped about from leg to leg in his excitement —

they had drummed up the great armada, and had flown here as though all the glaciers of the Ice Floes of Sicce were calving around their necks. They hadn’t bothered overmuch with food or drink, so as to cram every last fighting-man in, and now they were about to raid the rebels’ camp. “And, Dray, my puissant Lord of Strombor, I have been paying regular visits to Zenicce season by season. Great-Aunt Shusha and all the others send you their love.”

“Sink me!” I said, laughing. “I have a managing female to contend with!” And I hugged her close. My men swaggered around us, for they knew the great Jikai they had performed, and as the song whose title I will not tell you says, great was the performance thereof.

Then I stood her off from me and said: “Your father—”

“I will treat him gently, Dray.”

And I had feared and hesitated all this time!

We stood before the Emperor of Vallia in his ragged robes, and at my back bristled the weapons and the colors of my men, victorious in battle. I said softly, “Kiss him, Delia, embrace him.”

She did so. And, watching them, I saw the real affection there. Delia looked back at me from the crook of her father’s arm.

“I heard a name, Strom Drak — Strom of Valka — a name . . .” the Emperor said.

“Aye,” I said. “You ordered my head chopped off. Do you think that a great jest now, Majister?”

He licked his lips. I believe that many men there expected me to order his head off, on the instant. That would have been the justice Kregen understands. Crude, violent; something I, not only for my own sins but for the purposes of the Savanti, wished to change.

He walked with his daughter toward me. He slid a great ring from his finger. He held it out. His hand did not tremble.

“By this ring you are now legally and heritably Prince of Vallia, Drak—”

And Delia said with her brilliant laugh: “Call him by his name, Father dear. For this is Pur Dray Prescot, Krozair of Zy, Lord of Strombor, Zorcander of Felschraung and Longuelm, Strom of Valka — and what else besides I shouldn’t wonder. And, my father, know also that he is the man I shall marry, no matter if the whole of Kregen, let alone Vallia, stands in the way!”

She had placed Krozair of Zy in the prime position. I know my Delia understood.

“I am plain Dray Prescot,” I said. I took Delia’s hand. “And this is the woman who is my wife. We belong to each other.”

He braced up. He was, after all, the Emperor.

“Dray Prescot. Dray. You are, as far as I and Vallia are concerned, Prince Majister Dray. And” — he swallowed and his hand closed on the sacred emblem strung on a golden chain about his neck — “and you have my blessing, both of you.”

The hullabaloo racketed skyward, enormous, booming, uproarious. “Hai! Jikai!” The swords flashed skyward, glittering, shining, a forest of flashing blades. “Hai, Dray Prescot, Prince Majister of Vallia!”

Yes, they know how to do things with style in Kregen.

The sacred ring, emblem of the Majister, flashed and scintillated on my finger. I detest rings; this would go with the ring of Valka, safely sealed away to perform its duties on the days set apart. I held my Delia and I could not let her go.

Quietly, I spoke to the Emperor. “The third party has set Vallians against Vallians. But now that you are safe we can set about repairing the damage. I think Kov Furtway and Jenbar, no less than Trylon Larghos and the others, will fly for safety overseas. We can put Vallia back to rights.”

And, I promised myself, with Delia’s help we’d eradicate the obscenity of slavery from the place. That would take time. But we would do it. Had that been the reason for the Star Lords’ manipulations of me?

I looked up, but I could see neither the scarlet and golden raptor of the Star Lords, nor the white dove of the Savanti. They would make further appearances, this I knew, during my life on Kregen. The Savanti might have thrown me out of paradise, and I would now prosecute diligent inquiries to find the scarlet-roped Todalpheme who might show me the way back to Aphrasöe; they had also thrown me upon the mercy of the Star Lords. For how long would I remain a Prince of Vallia at the side of my Princess?

I held her close. The wedding ceremony would be performed very soon. Korf Aighos whispered to me, and I laughed, and said to Delia: “Certain friends of ours discovered a king’s ransom in wedding presents hidden in a gorge in the Blue Mountains. They think it proper they should be given to you, my Princess.”

We felt a stroke of sadness that Vektor, Kov of Aduimbrev, had died of heart failure occasioned through fear as he ran for the palisade of bones; but death is cheap on Kregen, and life is for the living. Those wedding presents were fit for a princess, so a princess should receive them. There was great feasting and great drinking beneath the Suns of Scorpio. Then we all took the airboats and flew for Vondium. I stood very close to Delia. How to believe that, at last, we had won each other?

I was hers as much as she was mine. She looked up into my eyes and searched my ugly old face, and she sighed, and snuggled closer to me.

From the airboat floated the flags of Vallia and Prescot; the yellow saltire on the red ground, and the yellow cross on the red ground, and I saw what must be done with those.

“Are you content, Dray, my darling?”

“With you by my side, how could I not be?”

“With all these old comrades, Hap Loder, Gloag, Prince Varden, with Inch and dear Seg and all the others, I believe you think of your two rascals, Nath and Zolta.”

Delia had never met those two unlikely specimens, but she understood. “Aye,” I said. “And of Zorg, who is dead.”

“Do not speak of death, Dray, not now! Now we have everything to live for! All of Vallia!”

“Yes.” I hugged her and then said, “You did not mention Vomanus.”

“No?” She looked around. “There should be no secrets between us. But this is a high state secret, so mind it! I think you believed Vomanus would marry me, was a rival, as those fool racters thought—”

“Well, woman?”

She chuckled, a silver tinkle of merriment against the swift passage of the flier.

“Vomanus is the son of my mother, before she married my father. He is my half-brother.”

“No wonder,” was all I could say. “He said Kovs were Kovs and Kovs to him!”

She laughed again, and so we stood there, together, with my fighting-men at my back, sailing under the twin yellow and red flags, as we sailed beneath the twin Suns of Scorpio casting down their mingled opaz radiance, sailing for Vondium and marriage and happiness.

I, Dray Prescot, of Earth, had found my home.

A Note on Prescot’s Map of Part of Kregen

The map of a part of Kregen, that cruel and beautiful planet four hundred light-years away under the Suns of Scorpio, appearing in this volume, number five, of the Saga of Prescot of Antares, presents a new and strange turn of events in the fascinating story of Dray Prescot. The paper appears to be a completely ordinary white bond, the outlines are drawn with a blue felt-nibbed pen, apparently freehand, and names and features are inserted in pencil. There is a red-lined border, and towns and cities are indicated by small red dots.

Various distances and bearings Prescot has mentioned from time to time in his story are now supported by this map, and we are now able to grasp more fully at an understanding of the topography of this savage world and where his adventures have taken him. In the bottom right-hand corner appear the letters D. P. Krzy faintly written in pencil in an old-fashioned script. Dray Prescot is a man above medium height, with straight brown hair and brown eyes that are level and oddly dominating. His shoulders are immensely wide and there is about him an abrasive honesty, and a fearless courage. He moves like a great hunting cat, quiet and deadly. Born in 1775, he presents a picture of himself that, the more we learn of him, grows no less enigmatic. Through the machinations of the Savanti nal Aphrasöe, mortal but superhuman men dedicated to the aid of humanity, and of the Star Lords, he has been taken to Kregen many times. In his early years he rose to become Zorcander among the Clansmen of Segesthes, and Lord of Strombor in Zenicce, and then a member of the mystic and martial Order of Krozairs of Zy. During this period he was guided by the single purpose of making his way to Vallia and there claiming his beloved, Delia of Delphond, Delia of the Blue Mountains. Able to afford assistance to Pando, boy Kov of Bormark in Pandahem, Prescot was abruptly flung back to Earth in the moment of triumph. He passes over that stay on Earth with a few brief sentences and welcomes wholeheartedly the summons of the Scorpion once more. His thoughts are clearly fixed on Kregen, that savage and beautiful, marvelous and terrible world of headlong adventure. He takes up the story when he is once more summoned to plunge at once into new and chilling danger, and that is where Prince of Scorpio begins.

This volume, Prince of Scorpio, then, brings to a satisfying conclusion the story contained in the first five books of the Saga of Prescot of Antares. The forthcoming volume, tentatively entitled Manhounds of Antares, begins a new cycle. I have taken the liberty of calling the first five books “The Delian Cycle,”

and with the next volume we are launched on “The Havilfar Cycle.”

I have worked up a glossary which, through the kindness of the Publisher, Donald A. Wollheim, who suggested it, is appended to this volume. This should prove of great value to all those who have — as I have myself — followed with such thrilling fascination the Saga of Prescot of Antares. Alan Burt Akers

A Glossary of Persons, Places, and Things in the Saga of Prescot of Antares References to the previous Scorpio books are given as:

TT: Transit to Scorpio

SU: The Suns of Scorpio

WA: Warrior of Scorpio

SS: Swordships of Scorpio

A

Aduimbrev: A province of Vallia, of which Vektor was Kov.

Aighos: A chieftain of the Blue Mountain Boys, nicknamed Korf.

Akhram: A castle and observatory at the eastern end of the Grand Canal in which the Todalpheme of Akhram carry on their work.

Angia, Kotera: Mother of Anko the Chisel.

Anko the Chisel: Cabinet-maker rescued from the bagnio in Vondium. Aph, River: Great river down which Prescot sailed on his first visit to Kregen (TT). Aphrasöe: The Swinging City. Built among giant plant-forms in a lake on the River Aph and inhabited by the Savanti (TT).

aragorn: Mercenary reavers and slavers.

Archbold: A leader of any of the Orders of Chivalry dedicated to Zair. argenter: An oceangoing ship of Pandahem, broad and comfortable.

Arkasson: A city in the Hostile Territories.

Arkhebi, Hikdar: Captain of Katrin Rashumin’s airboat.

Armipand: One of the devils in the pantheon of Pandahem.

Askinard: A land famed for its spices.

Atvar, Ark: A Jiktar of the Clan of Felschraung (TT).

B

balass: A wood similar to ebony, from which is made the balass stick, the title of authority of the petty overseers of the workers of Magdag.

Bargom: Young Bargom, son of Old Bargom, a Valkan, proprietor of The Rose of Valka, an inn and posting house in Vondium.

barynth: A large monster of great sinuousness and length, a hideous head, and four forward-grasping limbs.

beng: A saint.

benga: A female saint.

Benga Deste: Hot springs and a place of pilgrimage in West Segesthes. Beng-Kishi: These famous bells are said to ring in the skull of anyone hit on the head. This happens frequently on Kregen.

Berran: The Vadvar of Rifuji, an estate in Vallia.

Black Chunkrah, By the: A clansman’s oath.

Black Mountains: A range of lesser heights extending northward from the Blue Mountains. bloin: A cultivated crop plant with a tall brittle green stem from which the fruits hang like golden bells. Bloody Menahem, The: Name given by the Tomboramin to their neighbors of Menaham on Pandahem. Blue Mountain Boys: Ruffians, bandits, mountain men, dedicated to Delia, the Princess Majestrix. Blue Mountains: A small though lofty amphitheater-shaped mass of mountains in Western Vallia. The foothills and plain forming part of the province are famous for zorcamen and zorca-breeding. Delia’s inheritance.

bokkertu: Legal business.

Bold: A Krozair Brother, generally one serving permanently in any of the fortresses of the Orders. Borg, Ven, nal Ogier: A canalman of Vallia.

Bormark: A Kovnate on the western border of Tomboram.

bosk: A smaller form of vosk, a specialty of Valka.

Bowmen of Loh, The: A notorious song.

box: Small spined animal of the Segesthan plains.

Brokelsh: A squat-bodied people with much black bristle body hair. bur: The Kregan hour, approximately forty Terrestrial minutes.

C

calsany: A beast of burden.

Can-thirda: Large island to the east of Vallia.

Canticles of the Rose City, The: A myth-cycle at least three thousand years old concerning a half-legendary, half-historical man-god named Drak.

Careless Repose: Renders’ hideout in the Hoboling Islands.

cham: A juicy rubbery fruit much chewed by workers.

chanks: Sharks of the inner sea.

Chem: The central tropical rain forests of Loh.

chemzite: A precious stone of great value.

Chersonang: A city of the Hostile Territories in opposition to Hiclantung. Cherwangtung: Area of the Hostile Territories from which nocturnal primitives raid. Chuktar: Commander of ten thousand. Military ranks have become nonspecific on Kregen now and do not denote the actual number of men commanded. There are many and various subdivisions of the four main ranks.

Chuliks: An extremely fierce and manlike race of people with oily yellow skin, the head shaved so as to leave a long pigtail, two three-inch-long tusks thrusting upward from the corners of the cruel mouth, and round black eyes. The training of the males from birth is designed to produce high-quality mercenary soldiers; they are employed all over Kregen and they generally command higher fees than other races. chunkrah: A very large cattle animal, deep-chested, horned, fierce, with a russet coat, the mainstay of the clansmen of Segesthes.

clerketer: Leather harness attaching the rider to impiters or corths or other flying birds or animals of Turismond.

Company of Friends: Organizations of nobles and businessmen for trade in Vallia. corth: Large saddle bird, splendidly marked in a variety of colors. cramph: Term of abuse.

crested-korf: Large iridescent-blue-feathered bird of the Blue Mountains. crofermen: Men-beasts — savage, untamed, cruel, and suspicious — inhabiting the outer portions of The Stratemsk.

Cyphren Sea: The sea separating Turismond from Loh.

D

Dam of Days: Colossal dam controlling the tides through the strait connecting the Eye of the World with the outer ocean.

Dancing Talu: A narrow boat owned by Ven Yelker nal Ogier. Dean, Geoffrey: Recipient of The Tapes from Africa from Dan Fraser, passing them on to A.B.A. Deldar: Commander of ten. The petty officers in charge of the drum, whips, and helm aboard ship commonly hold this rank.

Delia: Princess Majestrix of Vallia, Delia of the Blue Mountains, Delia of Delphond. Delian Cycle, The: The first five books of the Saga of Prescot of Antares. Delka Dwa: A one-time fortress town of Vindelka on the border of the Ocher Limits. Delka Ob: Capital of the Kovnate province of Vindelka in Vallia.

Delphond: A province of Vallia situated on the southern coast, a rich, lazy, carefree, happy land. Dedicated to Delia.

dhem: Silver coin of Pandahem.

Diproo the Nimble-fingered, By: A thieves’ oath.

dom: Kregish equivalent of English “mate” or American “pal.”

Donengil: Coastal lands and islands of South Turismond.

dopa: A fiendish drink guaranteed to make a man fighting drunk.

Doty: Name of a personage or spirit used in invective by the aragorn and slave-masters of Vallia. Dragon’s Bones, The: A giant crater in the Ocher Limits filled with fossilized risslaca and mammal bones where Prescot was created Prince Majister of Vallia.

Drak: Name used on occasion by Dray Prescot.

Drak’s Seat: Mountain peak in the form of a throne to the northeast of Vondium. drin: Suffix in Kregish denoting “land.”

dromviler: Vessel of the inner sea propelled partly by sail and partly by oar, used mainly by the Sorzarts. dwa: Two.

dwabur: Measurement of length, approximately five miles.

dwbrs: Abbreviation of dwaburs.

E

Eling, Pallan: Minister (Secretary) of State of Vallia responsible for the canals. Empire of Loh: More properly, the Empire of Walfarg. Empire carved out by Walfarg taking in all of Loh, Pandahem, Eastern Turismond, the Hoboling Islands, and other areas. Now completely fallen, although there are traces left in various countries — roads, religions, culture, fashions. Encar of the Fields: Elder, appointed by Prescot, responsible for agriculture in Valka. Erdgar the Shipwright: Elder, appointed by Prescot, responsible for dockyards and shipping in Valka. Erithor of Valkanium: A bard and song-maker of Valka held in high renown throughout Vallia. Erthyrdrin: Land of mountains and valleys in the northernmost tip of Loh, famed for its Bowmen, the finest of Loh. Birthplace of Seg Segutorio.

Erthyr the Bow: The Supreme Being of Erthyrdrin.

Erstveheim, High Kov of: Councillor of the Presidio of Vallia.

Esser Rarioch: The high fortress overlooking Valkanium.

Esztercari: A noble house of Zenicce. Cydones was Prince of the House of Esztercari during Prescot’s sojourn there (TT).

Everoinye: The Star Lords.

Evir: Northernmost province of Vallia.

Eward: A noble house of Zenicce. Wanek was Prince of the House of Eward during Prescot’s sojourn there (TT).

Eye of the World: The inner sea of the continent of Turismond.

F

Falinur: A Kovnate province of Vallia.

fallimy: A little blue flower made into a paste to scour cisterns clean. Applied as a poultice to Prescot’s chest by Thelda (WA).

Farris, Lord of Vomansoir: A Chuktar in the Vallian Air Service.

Fatal Love of Vela na Valka, The: A music drama known over most of Kregen. Faygar, Strom of Vorgan: A member of the Racter party, owing allegiance to the Kov of Vomansoir. In his Stromnate Prescot first saw the headless zorcamen.

Felschraung: A clan of nomads roving the Great Plains of Segesthes. Prescot took obi of them and rose to be Zorcander (TT).

Felteraz: A harbor, town, fortress, and estate a few dwaburs east of Sanurkazz. A spot of exceptional beauty. Home of Mayfwy.

Fetching of Drak na Valka, The: Song made by Erithor of Valkanium commemorating Prescot’s fetching freedom to Valka, by fetching the people to resist, and of their fetching of him, as Drak, to be their Strom. Runs to seven hundred and seventy-eight stanzas.

Flahi: An island group off the coast of Eastern Turismond.

Flahians: People of remarkable physical structure living on Flahi. flick-flick: A plant with orange cone-shaped flowers and six-foot-long tendrils expert at fly-catching; kept in Kregan houses and kitchens for that purpose.

Foke the Ob-handed: A render who perpetrated atrocities in Valka.

Forpacheng: A treacherous councillor of Hiclantung who sold out to Umgar Stro (WA). Fraser, Dan: In West Africa he afforded Prescot the opportunity to tell his story, resulting in The Tapes from Africa.

Fristle: Furred and bewhiskered cat-people, fierce and treacherous, often employed as mercenaries. Their racial weapon is the scimitar.

Furtway, Naghan, Kov of Falinur: A great lord of Vallia, rescued by Prescot from the Mountains of the North on orders from the Star Lords.

Fwymay: Daughter of Zorg and Mayfwy of Felteraz.

G

Gansk: A city of the northern shore of the inner sea.

Gdoinye: A giant scarlet and gold raptor, messenger and spy of the Star Lords. Genal the Ice: An iceman of the Mountains of the North.

Genodras: The green sun of Antares.

Glittering Caves: Quarries and catacombs in jeweled mountains just outside Arkasson (SS). Gloag: A Mehzta, slave of the Esztercaris, freed by Prescot to become a good comrade (TT). Glycas: A prince of Magdag (SU).

Goforeng: A fortress city of the green north coast of the inner sea. Golda: A great lady of Aphrasöe (TT).

Gons: A race who, ashamed of their white hair, habitually shave their heads bald. Grace of Grodno: A swifter of Magdag (SU).

graint: A stubborn beast resembling a bear, but with eight legs and crocodile-like jaws extending for over eighteen inches.

Grakki-Grodno: Magdaggian sky-god of draft beasts.

Grand Archbold: Spiritual and temporal head of the Krozairs of Zy. Grand Canal: Five miles wide, connects the inner sea with the outer oceans. Great Northern Cut: A main canal of Vallia beginning in Vondium.

Great River: The major river of Vallia, winding from the Mountains of the North to the south coast where stands Vondium. Also known as Mother of Waters, and She of Fecundity. green sun: Besides Genodras it has many thousands of names; Kokimur, Ry-ufraison, He of the Green Spear, Havil, are four.

gregarians: A Kregan fruit.

grint: A small creature like a six-legged opossum of the Owlarh Waste. Grodno: The green-sun deity.

Grodno-Gasta: A blasphemously insulting epithet used against the people of Grodno. grundal: Rock-ape of the inner sea, with six spiderish limbs and a gray pelt; large mouth closing in folds of flesh, opening to a round, and armed with concentric rows of needlelike teeth. Vicious, cowardly, and deadly when hunting in packs.

Gurush of the Bottomless Marsh, By: A canalman’s oath.

Gyphimedes: The immortal mistress of the beloved of Grodno.

H

halflings: General term for the beast-men, man-beasts of Kregen.

Hall na Priags: A sacred chamber within one of the colossal megaliths of Magdag (SU). Happy Swinging: Parting salutation in Aphrasöe.

Harfnars: Half-men of Chersonang, with flat noses across their faces wide as their lips, brilliant lemur-like eyes, squared-off chins and foreheads. Hereditary foemen of Hiclantung, they are well-armed and armored after the decadent fashion of Loh.

Havilfar: A continent of Kregen.

Havilfar Cycle, The: The second cycle in the Saga of Prescot of Antares. Havilfarese: The people of any nation of Havilfar.

Heart Heights: Mountains and massif central in the center of Valka. hibisum flour: Used in the Blue Mountains for baking ponsho tender. Hiclantung: A city of the Hostile Territories ruled by Queen Lilah. High Zorcady: Capital of the province of the Blue Mountains in Vallia. Hikdar: Commander of a hundred.

Hlabro, Mount: A peak in Erthyrdrin.

Hlo-Hli: A spirit of Loh, appealed to and sworn by.

Hobolings: A race very squat of body and long of arm and leg, excellent topmen, inhabitants of the Hoboling Islands.

Hoboling Islands: Chain of islands stretching from Erthyrdrin to Northwest Pandahem off the northeast coast of Loh.

Hostile Territories: Area of central East Turismond between The Stratemsk and the Klackadrin, cut off from the outside world since the collapse of the Empire of Loh.

Hrunchuk: Idol in the temple gardens across the forbidden canal in Zenicce. Has three enormously valuable eyes.

humespack: Cloth used for clothing.

Hunter, Alex: Earthman sent by the Savanti on a mission to Valka.

Hurtado, Don, de Oquendo: Spaniard who taught Prescot rapier fighting. I

ib: Spirit of the dead.

Ice Floes of Sicce: One of the versions of a Kregan hell.

impiter: Gigantic coal-black flying animal of Turismond, the mainstay of various races’ aerial cavalry, as a saddle animal.

Inch: From Ng’groga. Seven feet tall, extraordinarily thin, with long fair hair. Wields an ax of the Saxon pattern. Obsessed with his taboos. A good comrade to Prescot.

Invisible Twins: see Opaz.

Isteria: Small island a comfortable day’s pull from Sanurkazz.

J

Jenbar, Tyr: Nephew to Naghan Furtway, Kov of Falinur.

Jeniu: Old panval shipwrecked in Valka on the way to Penal islands. Jholaix: Nation in the northeast of Pandahem famed for her wines.

Jikai!: A word of complex meaning; used in different forms means: “Kill!” “Warrior.” “A noble feat of arms.” “Bravo!” Many other related concepts to do with honor, pride, and warrior-status. Jikaida: A board game combining chess, checkers, and Halma-like moves on a checkerboard of a rectangular shape: a war-game.

jikaider: To flog crisscross.

Jiktar: Commander of a thousand.

K

kalasbrune: A building material of great value.

king korf: Larger than the crested-korf; found in Erthyrdrin; its feathers are prized for fletching. Klackadrin: A long narrow fault in the crust of Kregen running from the Boiling Sea in the north to the Lesser Stratemsk in the south of Eastern Turismond. Gives off hallucinogenic gases. kleesh: Violently unpleasant, repulsive, stinking — an insult.

knuckle: Approximately 4.2 inches.

Kodifex: Leader of the Assembly in Zenicce, elected from among the Princes and the chiefs of the Houses of Zenicce.

Korer, Captain: Captain of a Valkan galleon.

Koter: A Vallian gentleman. Kr. is the abbreviation.

Kotera: A Vallian lady. Kta. is the abbreviated form.

Kothmir: Once a part of the Empire of Loh.

Kov: Title of Kregan nobility, approximating to “Duke.”

Kovneva: Duchess.

Kovnate: An estate or province of a Kov.

Kovno, Rov: A Jiktar of the clan of Longuelm (TT).

Kregen: Planet circling Antares. Kregan is the adjective. Kregish is the language in universal use. There are many local tongues.

Krozair: Member of an Order dedicated to Zair.

Krz. Abbreviation for Krozair.

Krzy. Abbreviation for the Krozairs of Zy.

Kutven: Leader of the Vens of the canalfolk.

L

Lahal: Universal greeting for friend or acquaintance.

Larghos, Nath, Trylon of the Black Mountains: A Vallian nobleman.

Lashenda: Once a part of the Empire of Loh.

laypom: Fruit like a peach of a pale subtle yellow color, exquisite. leem: A feral beast found in one form or another over most of Kregen. Eight-legged, it is furred, feline, and vicious, with a wedge-shaped head armed with fangs that can strike through oak. It is weasel-shaped but leopard-sized. Its paws can smash a man’s head. There are various forms, as sea-leem, snow-leem, marsh-leem, desert-leem, and mountain-leem, each suitably camouflaged. leepitix: A reptilian twelve-legged wriggler about a foot long infesting the canals. Has a nasty bite but can be frightened off by splashing.

lenk: A very hard wood similar to oak.

Lesser Stratemsk: Spur of The Stratemsk running due east to the coast of Eastern Turismond opposite Flahi.

lesten: A high-class hide used for belts, moneybags, etc.

Likshu the Treacherous: A Chulik divine spirit appealed to and sworn by. Lilac Bird: Swifter commanded by Pur Zenkiren (SU).

Lilah: Queen of Hiclantung (WA).

ling: Animal as large as a collie dog, with six legs, and claws it can extend to four inches in length and open a rip in chunkrah bide. Lives among the bushes and rocks of the small prairie of Segesthes. Possesses a magnificent lightweight, long and silky white fur.

Llahal: Universal greeting for stranger.

Loder, Hap: Was Jiktar of the Clan of Felschraung when he gave obi to Prescot. Appointed Zorcander in Prescot’s absence but remains intensely loyal and devoted to Prescot. A good comrade (TT). Loguetter cheese: A first-quality cheese.

Loh: A continent of Kregen.

Loku: A Hikdar of the Clan of Felschraung (TT).

Lome: A nation in the northwest of Pandahem.

longsword, the Krozair: A perfectly balanced two-handed longsword with wide-spaced handgrips, able to be used one-handed, subject of rigorous and demanding training and mystical exercises. A terrible weapon of destruction.

Longuelm: A clan of the Great Plains of Segesthes, allied with the Clan of Felschraung under Prescot as Zorcander.

loomins: Mauve and white flowers.

Lord of Strombor: Dray Prescot.

Lorenztone: A Vallian Air Service flier.

lupu: A trance state induced by the Wizards of Loh.

lurfings: Low-bellied, lean-flanked, gray-furred scavengers of the plains with probing snout-like faces. Lu-si-Yuong: A Wizard of Loh (WA).

M

ma faril: Translates out as “my dear.”

magbird: Black carrion-eating bird of Magdag.

Magdag: Chief city of Grodno on the northern shore of the inner sea. Maiden with the Many Smiles: The largest of Kregen’s seven moons.

main-gauche: The left-handed dagger is often called the Hikdar.

Makki-Grodno: The base for a large and colorful variety of obscene oaths used by the followers of Zair. Makku-Grodno: An evil spirit of Magdag.

Malar Marshes: Marshy area of Erthyrdrin.

Marble Quarries of Zenicce: It was in the infamous Black Marble Quarries that Prescot labored as a slave (TT).

Marlimor: A reasonably civilized city famed for beautiful legends. Marshes of Buranaccl: Swampy area to the north of the Hostile Territories. Marsilus, Marker: Son of the Kov of Bormark, husband of Tilda and father of Pando. Died as a soldier in East Turismond.

Marsilus, Murlock: Nephew of the Kov of Bormark, usurped the Kovnate. mashcera: Material used for awnings.

Maspero: A citizen of Aphrasöe, one of the Savanti, Prescot’s Tutor (TT). Mayfwy: Widow of Zorg. Lively and beautiful, the great lady of Felteraz (SU). Mazak, Pur, Lord of Frentozz: A Krozair of Zy and swifter captain (WA). Mehzta: One of the Nine Islands. Lies off the east coast of Segesthes. Mehztas: A race of very strong people with bristle bullet-heads, heavy muscles, thick dun-colored hides, and short sinewy legs. Inhabitants of Mehzta.

Memis: A province of Tomboram.

Men of the Sunrise: An ancient people of whom now only their monuments remain, constructors of the Dam of Days and the Grand Canal. Also referred to as the Men of the Sunset. Menaham: Nation of central North Pandahem.

miscils: Tiny, fragile cakes that melt on the tongue.

missal: A tree with white and pink blossoms.

momolams: Small round yellow tubers eaten with roast ponsho.

moon-blooms: Flowers with a double ring of petals, both opening during the day, and the outer at night when moons are in the sky.

moons: Kregen has seven moons. The largest, the Maiden with the Many Smiles, is almost twice the size of Earth’s moon. The next two, the twins, revolve around each other. The fourth is She of the Veils. The three smallest moons hurtle rapidly across the sky close to the surface of Kregen. morfangs: Monsters of the Hostile Territories, squat, ovoid, with two arched coat-hanger-like shoulders each sprouting five long whip-like tendrils, which, if cut off, grow into new monsters. Quasi-intelligent, quick, treacherous, and incredibly strong.

Mother Zinzu the Blessed, By: A favorite oath of the drinking classes of Sanurkazz. Mountains of the North: The mountain range in the north of Vallia from which flows the Great River and much of the canal headwaters.

muldavy: Small boat of the inner sea, generally clinker-built and with a dipping lug. mur: The Kregan minute, fifty to a bur.

Murn-Chem: An area of western Loh.

muschafs: Cultivated bushes yielding crops.

mushk: A scented yellow plant used as a windbreak, attractive to bees. N

na: “Of.” Usually used to denote a person’s land or province of origin. Sometimes rendered as nal. nactrix: Close cousin of the sectrix.

Naghan the Paunch: An overseer of caravan guards between Pa Mejab and Pa Weinob (SS). Natema: The Princess Natema Cydones of the Noble House of Esztercari of Zenicce. Married Prince Varden Wanek (TT).

Nath: Sometimes Nath of Sanurkazz, sometimes Nath ti Zullia, from his birthplace. Oar-comrade to Prescot, Zorg, and Zolta. Son of an illiterate ponsho farmer. Big, a drinking man, intensely loyal to Prescot. Eventually a member of the Zimen.

Nath the Needle, Doctor: Gave medical attention to Prescot in Vondium. Nath the Thief: Assisted the clansmen in Zenicce (TT).

nathium: Precious metal used in trinkets and objects of art.

Nemo: King of Tomboram (SS).

Nemo Zhantil Faril Opaz: A King’s Swordship of Tomboram (SS). Ng’groga: Land in the southeast of Loh.

Ngrangi: Spirit of Ng’groga appealed to and sworn by.

Nicomeyn, Pallan: Councillor of State to King Nemo (SS).

Nycresand: Islands off the east coast of Loh.

O

oars: Silver and copper coins of Magdag.

ob: One.

Ob-eye: A Blue Mountain Boy.

obi: Among the clansmen it is given and taken, at first meeting, with or without combat as necessary, to determine social order. Carries implications of responsibility for the taker as obligations of the giver. Less violent systems occur elsewhere on Kregen.

obs: Copper coins. In Pandahem, eighty obs to a dhem.

Ocher Limits: Badlands northwest of Vindelka.

Ochs: A halfling people not above four feet tall, with six limbs, the central pair used indiscriminately as legs or arms. Lemon-shaped heads with puffy jaws and lolling chops. Found as mercenaries over most of Kregen.

Ogier Cut: An east-west canal system in Vallia.

Old Superb: Nickname given to Prescot’s personal flag.

onker: Term of abuse.

Oolie Opaz: Words of a continuous hypnotic chant.

Opaz: Name given to the dual-spirit, the Invisible Twins, who are visibly represented in the sky by Zim and Genodras.

Overlords: The Overlords of Magdag, masters of the north shore of the inner sea (SU). Owlarh Waste: Eastern section of the Hostile Territories leading to the Klackadrin. P

paline: Yellow cherry-like fruit with the taste of old port grows almost everywhere on Kregen. Sovereign cure for hangovers.

Pallan: Equates with Councillor, Minister, or Secretary of State.

Pa Mejab: Colonial port city of Tomboram in Eastern Turismond.

Pandahem: One of the Nine Islands, off the east coast of Loh. People known as Pandaheem. Panderk: Bay and Islands of North Pandahem.

Pandrite: A beneficent spirit of Pandahem.

Pando: Son of Tilda the Beautiful, inheritor of title of Kov of Bormark (SS). Panifer, Paline: Young servant girl in Vondium.

Panvals: Vallian political party opposed to racters.

papishin: Leaves used as roof-coverings.

pappattu: Introduction.

Pass of Trampled Leaves: In Segesthes where Prescot’s clansmen fired the wagons of their foemen (TT).

Pattelonia: Chief city of Proconia.

Pa Weinob: Frontier town of Tomboram in Eastern Turismond.

Pela: Lady-in-waiting to Katrin Rashumin.

Perithia: An area inland at the eastern end of the inner sea.

Phokaym: Intelligent and cruel reptilian race of risslaca ancestry inhabiting area to the immediate west of the Klackadrin.

Plains of Mist: Happy Hunting Grounds of the clansmen.

Plicla: Rapa city of the Hostile Territories.

Pomdermam: Capital of Tomboram.

ponsho: Domesticated animal providing meat and wool.

ponsho-trag: A Kregan sheep dog.

Ponthieu: A House of Zenicce.

Pool of Baptism: On the River Zelph in Aphrasöe.

Port Marsilus: Port of Bormark.

Port Paros: Small port in Segesthes southeast of Zenicce.

Port Tavetus: Colonial city of Vallia in Eastern Turismond.

Pracek, Prince: Of Ponthieu, presumed to the hand of Delia (TT).

Presidio: Government of Vallia under the Emperor.

preysany: A superior calsany used as a saddle animal.

Proconia: Land at the eastern end of the inner sea with people distinct from the north and south shore peoples.

Procul: A wine rich and dark red.

Prophet: Inspirational leader in the warrens of Magdag (TT).

Pugnarses: Overseer of the balass in the warrens of Magdag (TT).

Pur: Not a rank or a title (although apparently used as such), a badge of chivalry and honor, a pledge that the holder is a true Krozair. Prefixed to the holder’s name, as: Pur Dray. Q

Quanscott: Port of the Blue Mountains on the west coast of Vallia. Queens of Pain: Infamous rulers of Loh.

Quest of Tyr Nath, The: A rollicking tale of mythical adventure at least two thousand years old and known all over Kregen.

R

racter: Member of the most powerful political party in Vallia.

Rahartdrin: Island and Kovnate off the southwest coast of Vallia.

Rapa: Gray vulturine-headed halflings living over most of Kregen as slaves, workers, or mercenary guards, or in their own cities.

rapier: Often called the Jiktar. “A rapier to sharpen” equates with “an ax to grind.”

rark: Powerful hunting dog of Segesthes.

rashoon: Sudden and violent local gale on the inner sea.

Rashumin, Katrin: Kovneva of Rahartdrin.

rast: A disgusting six-legged rodent infesting dunghills.

Red Brethren of Lizz: A Fighting Order of Sanurkazz, devoted to Zair. Relts: More gentle cousins of the Rapas.

Remberee: Universal salutation on parting.

Render: Pirate.

risslaca: Dinosaur.

River of Shining Spears: Flows from the Blue Mountains into the Great River. Rodway, Pallan: In charge of the Treasury of Vallia.

Rojica Passage: Channel between Vallia and Can-thirda.

Rose of Valka, The:An inn and posting house in Vondium.

S

sah-lah: Cultivated bush with pink and white sweet blossoms.

San: An ancient title for master, dominie, sage.

samphron: Cultivated bush, the fruits yielding oil.

Sanurkazz: Chief city of the men of Zair.

Savanti: Mortal but superhuman people of Aphrasöe.

Sea-Barynth: Huge serpentine monster with oval body, long dorsal fin, an immense head, and fang-filled mouth above two paddle-fins.

Sea of Marshes: Southerly extension of the inner sea past Sanurkazz. Sea of Swords: Smaller extension of the inner sea past Zy.

sectrix: Six-legged saddle animal, blunt-headed, wicked-eyed, pricked of ear, slate-blue hide covered with scanty coarse hair.

Segesthes: A continent of Kregen.

Segutorio, Seg: Bowman of Loh from Erthyrdrin. Ran away to be a mercenary. Intensely loyal to Prescot and a good comrade.

Selnix: Vad of Thadelm.

Shallan: Prescot’s agent in Sanurkazz (SU/WA).

Shattered targes in Mount Hlabro, By all the: An Erthyr oath.

She of the Veils: Fourth moon of Kregen.

shorgortz: Giant reptilian monster with four eyes, in the Blue Mountains. Shusha, Great-Aunt: The Lady of Strombor, married into the Ewards, from whom Prescot received Strombor.

shush-chiff: Sarong-like garment worn by girls on holiday.

silver trumpets of Loh: Famed trumpets that led on the armies of Walfarg. So: Three.

Sooten and her Twelve Suitors: Theatrical tragedy well known on Kregen. Sorzarts: Lizard-men of a group of islands in northeastern inner sea. Sosie: Wife of Ven Yelker nal Vomansoir, a canalwoman.

Sosie na Arkasson: Young lady rescued by Prescot in the Hostile Territories (SS). Spitz: A Bowman of Loh (SS).

squishes: Tiny and delicious fruit.

Star Lords: The Everoinye.

Stentors: 1. Chunkrah-horn blowers in swifters; 2. Spiral-brass-horn blowers in Emperor’s canal boats. Storr, Mount: Vineyards near Hiclantung.

Stovang, Hikdar: Vektor’s officer in charge of wedding presents.

Stratemsk, The: Enormous mountain chain of Turismond.

Strigicaw: Powerful fast-running, six-legged carnivore, with striped foreparts and double-spotted rear, in red and brown.

Strigicaw: A zenzile swordship commanded by Prescot for Viridia (SS). Strom: Title of Kregan nobility approximating to “count.”

Strombor: A noble House of Zenicce.

Strye: Island northwest of Zenicce which provides cheap grass for mastodons. sturm: Wood of many uses on Kregen.

Stylor: Name given to Prescot in the warrens of Magdag (SU).

Sunset Sea: Ocean stretching between Segesthes and Turismond.

Susheeng: Princess of Magdag (SU).

swifter: Multi-banked galley of the inner sea.

swingers: Platforms attached to plant tendrils used for transportation in Aphrasöe. Swinging City: Aphrasöe.

Sword of Genodras: Magdaggian swifter captured by Prescot and Seg (WA). swordship: Single-banked, broadside-armed galleass of the outer oceans. Swordship and Barynth, The: An inn of Therminsax.

T

talens: Gold coins of Vallia.

Talu: Eight-armed dancer (possibly mythical).

Ta’temsk: Guardian spirit of the inner sea.

taylynes: Pea-sized scarlet and orange vegetables. Good with vosk. terchick: Throwing-knife, often called the Deldar.

Thadelm: A province of Vallia northwest of Delphond.

Tharu of Vindelka: Kov sent by Delia to find Prescot on inner sea (SU). Tharu ti Valkanium: Leader of the high assembly of Valka.

Theirson: Koter of Valka who helped Prescot during his canal sickness. Thelda: Lady-in-waiting to Delia (WA).

Therminsax: Market town of central north Vallia.

Thisi the Fair: Wife to Theirson.

thorn-ivy: Unpleasant sharp-spined bush.

thyrrix: Nimble mountain-animal of Erthyrdrin.

ti: “Of.” Usually used to denote a person’s town or city of origin. tikos: Little green and brown lizards.

Tilda: Mother of Pando. A famous theatrical entertainer, known as Tilda the Beautiful or Tilda of the Many Veils (SS).

Todalpheme: Astronomers and mathematicians.

Tom of Vulheim: Young Koter of Valka.

Tomboram: Nation of eastern North Pandahem.

toonon: Shortsword mounted on bamboo shaft, aerial weapon of Ullars. Tremzo: A city of Zair.

Trylon: Title of Kregan nobility intermediate between Vad and Strom. tuffa: A thin willowy tree.

Turismond: A continent of Kregen.

Tyr: Title equivalent to “Sir.”

U

Ullardrin: Land of Northern Turismond.

Ullars: Barbarians from Ullardrin, with narrow-set eyes, square clamped mouths, blunt heads, hair dyed indigo. Whole tribes habitually travel by air astride saddle impiters. Ullgishoa: Horrific monster belonging to Ullars (WA).

Umgar Stro: Leader of Ullars (WA).

Undurkers: Supercilious race of canine-headed halfling archers.

Undurkor: Group of islands of southwest coast of Segesthes.

Upalion: A rich estate of Proconia. The Lady Pulvia and her son were rescued by Prescot on orders from the Star Lords (WA).

V

Vad: Title of Kregan nobility intermediate between Kov and Trylon. Valka: Island off the east coast of Can-thirda off Vallia.

Valkanium: Capital city of Valka.

Vallia: One of the Nine Islands situated between Segesthes and Loh. Vandayha: City of Valka famed for its silversmiths.

Vangar ti Valkanium: A Deldar in the Vallian Air Service.

Vanki, Naghan: Lord of an island off Vallia.

Vaosh: Patron spirit of the canalfolk.

varter: Flat-trajectory ballista throwing rocks and darts.

Veiled Froyvil: Spirit appealed to and sworn by, of Erthyrdrin.

Vela’s Tears: Strong red wine of southern Valka.

Vektor, Kov of Aduimbrev: Selected by the Emperor to marry Delia.

Ven: Courtesy title of canalmen. Feminine is Vena.

Venus: Swordship of Viridia’s render maidens (SS).

Viktrik: A clan of the Great Plains of Segesthes.

vilmy: Blue flower with silver heart-shape on each petal; the paste makes a soothing ointment. Vindelka: Province and Kovnate northwest of Vondium.

Violet offal of the snow-blind feister-feelt, By the: An Ullar oath. Viridia the Render: A lady pirate of the Hoboling Islands (SS).

Vomansoir: Province and Kovnate of central Vallia.

Vomanus: Became Kov of Vindelka. Good comrade to Prescot (SU).

Vomer the Vile, By: Oath of the slave-masters of Vallia.

Vondium: Capital of Vallia.

voryasen: A risslaca, part crocodile, part tylosaurus.

Vorgan: A Stromnate owning allegiance to the Kov of Vomansoir.

vosk: A fat pig-like six-legged animal with a smooth oily skin of a whitish-yellow, with atrophied tusks, standing six feet at the shoulder. A beast of burden; more often a food animal. vosk-skulls, or vosk-helmets: The workers and slaves of the warrens of Magdag trained up by Prescot into a phalanx received either of these names because they wore thick vosk skulls as helmets. vove: Large and exceptionally ferocious eight-legged saddle-animal of the Great Plains of Segesthes, equipped with fangs and horns, russet-colored. Smaller and without the fangs and horns is called a half-vove.

Vovedeer: Leader of clans in Segesthes.

Vox, By: A Vallian oath.

Vulheim: Port city of western Valka.

W

Walfarg: Nation of Loh, now sunk in apathy, once the center of a great empire. Wanek, Prince Varden: Of the House of Eward. A good comrade to Prescot Wardens: Provided by all the Houses of Zenicce for police work and seaward defense. wersting: A vicious black and white stripped four-legged hunting dog. Wickens: A House of Zenicce.

Wil: Young boy of Dancing Talu.

Wizards of Loh: Sorcerers and magicians of great and apparently supernatural powers. Wloclef: Large island off the west coast of Turismond, famed for its thick-fleeced curly-ponshos. woflo: Small animal fond of cheese.

Womox: An island off the west coast of Vallia.

Womoxes: A strong, bull-necked people who carry their heads forward with two stumpy but formidable horns on their foreheads. Fierce, independent, not overly original. Wulk: A barbarian of the northern hills, a friend to Prescot.

Wyndhai: An area of The Stratemsk, home of yellow eagles.

X

xi: Iridescent-scaled winged lizards of humid jungle-valleys of The Stratemsk. Xoltemb: A caravan-master of Segesthes from Xuntal (TT).

Xuntal: An island off the southern promontory of Segesthes.

Y

Yelker, Ven, nal Vomansoir: A canalman, owner of the Dancing Talu. Yerthyr: Very dark-green poisonous tree of Erthyrdrin from which are cut the finest-quality longbow staves.

yulshi: A draft bird of the Hostile Territories. Plural: yuelshi.

Yumapan: Nation of the west coast of Pandahem.

Z

Zair: The red-sun deity.

Zamu: A city dedicated to Zair, base of the Krozairs of Zamu.

Zantristar the Merciful, By: A Sanurkazzian oath.

Zazz, Pur: Grand Archbold of the Krozairs of Zy (SU).

Zelph, River: Joins the River Aph at Aphrasöe.

Zenicce: Great enclave city of a million souls on west coast of Segesthes. Zenkiren, Pur: Krozair of Zy, Grand Archbold elect (SU/WA).

zhantil: A magnificent wild animal larger than a leem, massively built in the foreparts, banded in tiger-stripes of umber and ruby, with a rich golden mane.

zhantil to saddle, a: A secret and difficult purpose.

Zim: The red sun of Antares. Has many other names.

Zimen: Lay brothers of the Krozairs of Zy.

Zim Stream: Warm water flowing northward through the Cyphren Sea.

Zim-Zair, By: A Krozair oath.

zizils: Giant flying animals of The Stratemsk.

Zo, King: King of Sanurkazz (SU).

Zolta: Oar-comrade to Prescot, Zorg, and Nath. Took the apostis seat. Gives no details of his history, is a man for the ladies. Eventually a member of the Zimen.

Zond: Produces the finest wine of the southern shore of the inner sea. Zora: Name usually given by Prescot to swifters he commanded.

zorca: Swift riding animal, short-coupled, four extremely long and thin legs, hoofed. A single curled horn rises from its forehead.

Zorcander: Leader of clans.

Zorg: Son of Zorg and Mayfwy (SU).

Zorg of Felteraz: Oar-comrade of Prescot, Zolta, and Nath. Krozair of Zy. Died under the lash on the slave-benches of the Magdaggian swifter Grace of Grodno.

Zulfiria: A city of the southern shore of the inner sea.

Zullia: Village to the south of Sanurkazz devoted to ponsho fanning. Birthplace of Nath, oar-comrade to Prescot.

Zy: Island formed from an extinct volcano, in the mouth of the Sea of Swords. Headquarters of the Krozairs of Zy.

Zyna: Daughter of Ven Yelker and Vena Sosie, of the Dancing Talu. About the author

Alan Burt Akers is a pen name of the prolific British author Kenneth Bulmer. Bulmer has published over 160 novels and countless short stories, predominantly science fiction. More details about the author, and current links to other sources of information, can be found at www.mushroom-ebooks.com

The Dray Prescott Series

The Delian Cycle:

Transit to Scorpio

The Suns of Scorpio

Warrior of Scorpio

Swordships of Scorpio

Prince of Scorpio

Havilfar Cycle:

Manhounds of Antares

Arena of Antares

Fliers of Antares

Bladesman of Antares

Avenger of Antares

Armada of Antares

Notes

[1]Elsewhere Prescot says that Koter is usually abbreviated to Kr, as is “Mister” on Earth abbreviated to

“Mr.” Also, he says that Krozair is often abbreviated to Krz. The Kregans, like the ancient Romans and modern men, are fond of abbreviations. A.B.A.

[2] Kta., Kotera, the female equivalent of Koter , of Kr. A.B.A.