Scorpio Invasion Read Online Free PDF

the crowds between us. Her head was uncovered and her bright red Lohvian hair gleamed in the radiance of the suns.
    To say this woman intrigued me must be an overstatement. What she had said and why she had said it — that interested me, by Krun!
    Now she was ranting on about the absence of life and energy in the land. People were slothful. People were all sinful. All they thought of were their bellies, their beds, their money. “We must rise up,” she declaimed. “Rise up and take back what once was ours!”
    A few thin shouts of approval lifted. A few harsher voices of dissent growled away. Most of the crowd remained dumb or talking in undertones between themselves.
    So, I reasoned, the people had not raised themselves from their lethargy to run and see and listen to this woman. Oh, no. They were here to see her brought low. If that was not done by a Wizard of Loh then no doubt the agents of the local police or watch would soon swoop. The crowds were looking forward to that pleasurable entertainment.
    I felt disgusted with them.
    Now she was delivering herself of pent up fury and resentment at the judgment of history. She was blaming the fall of the Empire of Walfarg on the Wizards of Loh and also on the incompetence of Walfargian military men. “We must have boats that sail through the thin air!” she screeched. “We must breed giant birds to carry us on their wings into battle to bring us the victory!” At this the catcalls spurted from the crowds. “We must have these things! We will have them! As I stand here, I, Mul-lu-Manting, swear it! By the Seven Arcades I swear!”
    This was heavy metal. The Seven Arcades, whatever they were, were words on the lips of Wizards of Loh when impassioned or inflamed to rage. Maybe this girl was some kind of Witch of Loh, maybe she’d failed her exams or had been defrocked. That would account for her attack on the Lohvian mages.
    A stir in the crowd near me and the unmistakable tramp of iron-shod feet heralded the expected fun and games. There was no chance that I could intervene to help this woman. I felt that, had I the opportunity to do so, I would. The mass of people shrank away from the guards, clanking along. By the time they were within reach of the statue of the Khibil with the upraised bow, Mul-lu-Manting was long gone from the pedestal.
    “The incompetent fools!” A shrewish little woman was scolding the miserable looking man at her side as though he were responsible. “The vile blasphemer, she got away from them. Now if I had her here—”
    “Yes?” questioned a deep, resonant voice at my side. “And, lady, you would do exactly what?”
    I sized up the speaker. He was muffled up in a light silken cloak, and his flat, floppy hat hung down around his ears and forehead. His eyes were bright and sharp enough. Before the shrewish woman could answer, her husband piped up: “This is no business of yours, walfger—” [1]
    The woman shut him up with a rattled-out string of nastiness. Then she snapped: “Why, I’d teach her to mind her tongue and her manners!”
    The slim figure of a girl in light draperies pushed forward and grasped the arm of the owner of the deep mellifluous voice. He was about to launch into what anyone could recognize as a sermon. The girl spoke swiftly. “It is no use, san. Come away, please, come away now.”
    He turned his head to regard her and I saw more of his face — a drawn, ascetic countenance, with the harsh lines of suffering etched around the mouth and eyes. “Yes, Xinthe, I suppose you are right. But have I not told you time and again about calling me san?”
    The shrewish woman was lapping this up. Now she burst out: “You are one of those dreadful supporters of the witch Mul-lu-Manting. Call the guards! Help, help!”
    Moving with enough speed to get there without loss of time I stepped up behind this unpleasant, little lady and placed my fingers on her neck at precisely the right spot. My other arm encircled a waist more