Mazes of Scorpio Read Online Free PDF Page A

there lay Vallia... And, to the east of Vallia, Valka...
    Well, I own it, I sensed the feelings of the people of Hamal. We of Vallia and Valka and Djanduin, with friends from Hyrklana and the Dawn Lands, had rid the world of the mad Empress Thyllis and the arch-fiend, Phu-Si-Yantong. But, well and all, perhaps we’d be better off at home? We might be overstaying our welcome here. I sensed this, in the delicate way Nedfar talked, his graceful gestures, and the way those eyebrows manipulated the shadows over his face.
    “We must rebuild Hamal, Nedfar. We must be strong to face those devilish Shanks who raid us. But I think you know my feelings on having a country fight its own battles.”
    “Yes,” he said wryly. “I remember.”
    “And I am restless. I am asked this and that, I do this and that, and yet—”
    ‘The Empress Delia?”
    “By Zair, how I miss her!”
    “Well, my friend, you must go adventuring, as you love so well to do.”
    “But—”
    He smiled, and in his firmness of feature reminded me of his son, Tyfar, who was a blade comrade and who would, if all our friends could knock some sense into him and her, marry my daughter Jaezila.
    “Oh, yes, Dray,” said the Emperor of Hamal, “there are always buts.”
    Then Seg came in after knocking and I was able to dissimulate. By Krun! But Nedfar was right!
    “Seg!” I said, and I spoke so that my comrade swung instantly to face me, and I saw that quickly suppressed flick of his hand, ready to draw sword or bow. “Seg, my old dom. You and I are due for some roving again — we have nothing now to detain us here.”
    “That is true. I have the Kroveres of Iztar, but we are busily recruiting and things go passably well—”
    “We will visit Vallia and Valka—”
    “Visit?”
    Nedfar saw what Seg meant.
    “Can you visit your home?”
    For me, an Earthman transited across four hundred light-years of emptiness to a marvelous and wonderful new world — to such a one — where did home lie? With Delia, yes. But she was off adventuring, driven by compulsions a mere mortal man was not allowed to share. Home? Yes, Valka was my home, up there in the high fortress castle of Esser Rarioch overlooking Valkanium and the bay. And, too, the gorgeous enclave city of Zenicce was home to me, and so were the tents of my ferocious Clansmen of Segesthes. And, too, so was the windy city of Djanguraj in my Kingdom of Djanduin. I have many homes, many I have not spoken of. But I think in the end a fellow’s true home is what he carries in his head. Where his thoughts lie, that is home.
    Another knock sounded and the two guards opened the doors with a quick check of the fellow they admitted.
    Protocol, at least for the Emperor of Vallia, was deliberately relaxed.
    One of the guards, old whiskery Rubin who could sink a stoup of ale without pause and who had been in one or another of my regiments for a long long time, opened his mouth and bellowed: “Majister! Andoth Hardle, the Spy, craves audience!”
    I did not burst out laughing. But, by Vox, I own my craggy old beakhead split into a most ferocious smile of pleasure. Good old Rubin. Spies, like anyone else, had to be announced to the emperor unless they were personal friends.
    “He,” observed Seg, “won’t be a spy for long if Rubin shouts any louder.”
    “Send him in, Rubin,” I said
    “Quidang!”
    And so my latest spy, Andoth Hardle, trotted in.
    Trotted. Well, he was small and lithe and wore a chin beard, and was deft and inconspicuous, quick with a dagger, and wearing link mesh under his tunic. He bowed.
    “Majister.”
    “Sit down, Andoth, and take a glass. Your news?”
    “The woman with the coiled hair has been taken up.”
    “What!” exclaimed Seg. “So easily?”
    Andoth Hardle sat in the chair that did not stand next to my desk, and he delicately filled the glass on the side table with parclear. He put the jug down and rearranged the linen cover. He lifted the glass and the parclear