Allies of Antares Read Online Free PDF

see.”
    “If—” said Jaezila, and she held the burned rag between her fists. “If Tyfar is—”
    “Let us go and see.”
    Like any sensible Kregan in unfamiliar territory with a voller to consider, we’d concealed the airboat in the trees. The wild-men had not spotted her. We scuffed the fire out and Jaezila marched off to the voller. She let the cape fall to the ground. It was of a russet color, with a high velvet collar and those golden zhantils entwined and leaping as edging. Seg started after Jaezila.
    I picked up the burned cape. I rolled it up. I shoved it under my arm. I started for the airboat. Jaezila was damned upset and I didn’t like that.
    She took the controls and sent the little craft up in a violent surge. We swung over the trees and pelted for the ridge. The gray rock and the trees whipped away below and we looked over the ridge into the valley folded between the mountain arms.
    Fire, smoke, destruction...
    Hammansax burned.
    “Tyfar—”
    “He’ll be all right, Jaezila. You know how resourceful he is.”
    “That’s the trouble. He’s likely to go rushing out and get himself killed.”
    We did not speak much as the voller shot down toward burning Hammansax.
    The town had been a small prosperous frontier post — the sax in the name indicated that — and the raiders had failed to destroy the character of the place. Walls still stood, a few roofs remained unfallen. But smoke choked everywhere and people ran and yelled among the flames. They had come out of hiding after the wildmen flew off and now strove to save their town from further destruction.
    In a flierdrome to one side, the wreck of a green-painted Courier voller lay twisted grotesquely, the flames little blue devils amid the smoke along her frame. Beyond her the flierdrome was empty.
    “No one here when the wildmen struck,” said Seg.
    “Perhaps Tyfar wasn’t here.” Jaezila hurled the airboat down into the principal square. Only two sides burned, the other two containing stalls remained intact. People looked up and shouted as we landed on the beaten earth of the square.
    We soon discovered the story. Prince Tyfar had not been in Hammansax for a time. The stink of raw ashes, hot and shiny, got up our nostrils. Whirls of black cinders swept into the air from the burning houses. The people were dazed. This was a disaster which, although always a possibility in their imaginations, had really arrived and with it — horror. No matter these folk lived on the frontier and expected trouble; when that trouble came it was always fresh and terrible and so much greater than the anticipation could prepare. Yet we could not stop and help.
    “We have sent off messengers,” one of the chief men of the town told us. “The army will follow the moorkrim and try to get our people back; but the wildmen will fly far, far.” He wiped black soot around his eyes, which were red and inflamed. “May Havil rot their wings.”
    Despite all the ridiculous toughness I am supposed to have, be and represent, despite all the aloof power and authority vested in me, despite all this flummery, I felt the keen dagger of guilt. This was my fault. By invading Hamal we had drawn off vitally needed men to guard these frontier posts against the wildmen. Oh, yes, the burdens hanging on the shoulders of men and women foolish enough to rule empires crush their victims unless resisted with other weapons than simple brute force.
    If you cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs, then one innocent person will save a city of guilty people.
    We did what we could to help the people, but that was little enough, Zair help us.
    They were aware that their empire had been defeated in a battle in the capital city. But that was a long way away. Cultivation and husbandry and constant vigilance against the wild-men from over the mountains was the reality, was the here and now.
    They’d go on living this way, living their lives, and whoever ruled in Ruathytu would demand taxes and