Beasts of Antares Read Online Free PDF

more steps to go before becoming a Kapt.
    “Thank you, majister—”
    “And now you serve the new Kov of Falinur, Kov Turko?”
    He squinted up at me.
    “What has passed cannot alter my decision—”
    Turning to Turko the Shield, I said, “Kov, I would like to introduce to you Ord-Chuktar Mevek, a fine fellow and one whom you must watch. Mevek, you have the honor of being presented to Kov Turko of Falinur.”
    Well...
    I suppose to a tired old cynic this was all childish stuff. I am tired, right enough, even though I recognize tiredness as a mortal sin, and I am cynical enough betimes; yet I viewed this confrontation with a quiet relish. The sight of Mevek’s eyebrows was reward enough.
    Turko maintained a marvelous composure, and yet I knew well enough that superior Khamorro was thoroughly enjoying himself. And, with all this fun and games, we had made a significant breakthrough in relations with some of the people of Falinur. Oh, there were many of them who would side with Jhansi, and detest their new kov. But we had to be patient, and do the right things — the right things in our eyes, of course — and eventually demonstrate that we were not bloodsuckers, not slavers, and were seeking the good of all the folk of Falinur.
    That was just about impossible, given the tenacious clinging to slavery of many of the masters of Falinur. But I felt strongly that Turko would succeed. He was going to bring a different technique to Falinur from the mild methods of Seg. I might deplore this. But, as the surgeons say, you cannot amputate without losing a little blood.
    We left Chuktar Mevek with promises that we would soon return with the army of liberation. At least, Kov Turko would lead that army; I planned to travel to Hyrklana. With the cavalry escort fore and aft, we rode back south as She of the Veils, the fourth moon of Kregen, rose to follow the Maiden with the Many Smiles between the stars.

Chapter three
    In Which Nath Nazabhan, Kapt of the Phalanx, Is at Last Named
    “A sorcerer was reported sniffing around one of the university buildings.”
    “Ortyg Voinderam has absconded with the Lady Fransha, and her father, the Lord of Mavindeul, having recovered from a fit occasioned by his paroxysm of rage, vows vengeance, and his agents have been seen in Drak’s City.”
    “Filemon, the shoe contractor, has defaulted on payment for a thousand hides.”
    “An outbreak of horn rot is reported in the zorcas of Thoth Valaha.”
    “It is reported that an idol of Mev-ira-Halviren opened its eyes and spoke, since when a multitude of the credulous flock to the temple of this outmoded religion, and the priests wax fat.”
    “A Hamalese spy has been apprehended in Delphond and is being brought to Vondium in chains.”
    “It is reliably reported that...”
    “The latest situation appreciations show that...”
    “What are your orders concerning...”
    And so on and so on...
    The motives of anyone who takes on the job of putting a country back together again after seasons of unrest and destruction surely need very close scrutiny.
    While the process of reconstruction is going on there is little time if any for introspection. It is all work, work and more work, from long before the twin Suns of Scorpio rise to long after they set. All the same, despite the constant crushing work load, doubts must creep in. Self-analysis is probably engendered by the pressures and fatigue. And then, as they say in Balintol, you’ll forget which hand to use and stand there, motionless, like a cartwheel.
    Enevon Ob-Eye, my chief stylor, had recruited a large and growing bureau to handle the paperwork.
    Every death warrant was seen by me, personally, and in many cases with discussions with the magistrates concerned to delve deeper into the matter, the sentences were commuted to lesser punishments. This damned Hamalese spy, for instance...
    “Hang him,” said Nath Nazabhan, the fierceness of his words matched by the anger he felt against the enemies