Gangs of Antares Read Online Free PDF Page A

the runnels of the warrens between the hills. Up here might not be heaven; down there was well on the way to hell.
    Ranaj with his golden fur and his superb lionman physique performed many functions within Nandisha’s household; butler, major-domo, footman, quartermaster. As her cadade, the captain of the guard, a position of the utmost responsibility in every noble household, he perhaps took this task as his most important. He’d hired on Fweygo and me as temporary reinforcements during a time of particular difficulty, and now, having seen us operate, was evidently reluctant to part with our services. Certainly, he did not treat us like two ordinary swods of the palace guard.
    It seemed to me that Ranaj would be as unlikely to accept the human error explanation for the kidnap as I would be in his position. One guard late, one unwell, and the poor devil left on duty murdered? Oh no, by the disgusting diseased liver and lights of Makki Grodno! Those two dubious characters would be up and facing an enquiry instanter. Sammle the Erkanstater, a numim, had been late because he’d been sent along to replace the sick dutyman; no, it was the other latecomer and the fellow with the gut ache who’d be questioned.
    From the advance party, Naghan the Twist, a Gon, reported back. He told Ranaj the tavern was only lightly patronized at this time of day, and the best chances were that prince Byrom was being held in one of the upstairs rooms. He gave a rapid rundown on the layout of The Clipped Rhok.
    Speed, quite obviously, was essential and Ranaj went for the direct solution. Some of us would keep the patrons entertained whilst others stormed up the stairs. Any escape would be blocked off front and back and all windows would be covered.
    Ranaj said very curtly: “Fweygo, Drajak. You stay with me.”
    We nodded our assent. Mind you, I did wonder if we would be able to obey if the Everoinye decided differently, yes, by Krun.
    The Clipped Rhok turned out to be an impressive structure in these surroundings, although on other hills it would look a wreck.
    At the front hung a white flag with a black circle surrounding a white center. This was the kaotresh, the flag of death, and even the semi-criminal fraternity inhabiting this place had the sense to fly the kaotresh to mourn the passing of the king. Only when the new king, King Tomendishto, was crowned would his bright flags be unfurled.
    The advance party under Naghan the Twist’s orders from the cadade went inside as we approached and when we entered we had a clear run to the stairs. Any possibility of someone running up to warn those aloft was instantly checked. No one made the attempt.
    The lionman went up the blackwood stairs three at a time. Fweygo and I followed, with Sammle and the rest at our backs.
    A pot-bellied fellow with a huge beard appeared at the top of the steps and Ranaj simply hit him over the head and Fweygo caught him as he fell. I passed the limp body on down. All this was done in silence, apart from the soft thwunk of the blow.
    A corridor dimly lit by a dirty window at the far end revealed closed doors each side. Ranaj motioned with his drawn sword. We all took up our positions outside the doors and looked at the cadade. He nodded his head with a look of the utmost determination on his golden-whiskered face and we smashed the doors in and sprang inside.
    My room contained an apim and a Sylvie closely entwined on the grimy bed. To anyone with fastidious tastes there was nothing in the sordid room to interest in the slightest. I shot back into the corridor and now shouts and screams broke out. Fweygo catapulted out of the next door and shook his head. Others of our party were re-entering the corridor, Ranaj among them. Noises blurted from the end.
    We all ran along in a jumbled mass, picking up other men as they found empty or innocuous rooms. Directly in front of us Neap the Traiky came flying out of the end room to land on his ear in the corridor. He yelled. A