Warlord of Antares Read Online Free PDF Page A

burned upon the bright face of the sea.
    From the little that remained I took them to be argenters, broad-beamed merchant craft. Above them circled the hateful black-hulled fliers of the Shanks. The airboats with their brightly-painted squared-off upperworks had given the three ships of Paz no chance. Fire pots had rained down. It was now all over, and had I been there instead of watching that terrible scene from an unknown distance I could have achieved little more.
    Little more than nothing would still be nothing.
    “Yes,” sighed that nasal voice. “There is your task, Dray Prescot, and yet—”
    “Hold it, hold it,” I interrupted, not recking of the damned power of the Star Lords. “I know all about that lot. Why didn’t you warn me of them? You said the Shanks were over in Mehzta. Yet they are here off the coast of Pandahem and likely to—”
    Instead of cutting me off peremptorily with cutting sarcasm, as they would probably have done in the old days, they interrupted with: “The Shanks are in Mehzta. The fight sways back and forth. These are Shtarkins, along with Shkanes. Their use of vollers is recent.”
    “That doesn’t alter the fact you should have told me.”
    A spark of their old arrogance spurted.
    “We are not answerable to you, Dray Prescot. You answer to us!”
    “Yes and no,” I said, and heard myself speaking, and I was in a fair old state, I can tell you. This was quite unlike normal dealings with the Star Lords, unknown arbiters of life and death. I realized I was holding the glass of light yellow with a grip that would fracture the globe if I didn’t manage to control myself.
    The Star Lords went on to apprise me of the details of the vollers run by the Shanks, details that I shall pass along when they become relevant, and something of what they said calmed me down. All the same, I felt that the bargain I fancied we had patched up between us had been seriously endangered, and I had been betrayed.
    “Not so, onker. You have had time to deal with your problems, there is time yet to go. We shall tell you when that time comes, never fear.”
    I did not slang them. I wanted to know why what had happened to me since being snatched up from the collapsing palace, leaving Seg, and arriving here, had occurred. The details seemed to me so bizarre as to warrant an explanation that, in all probability, I would not understand.
    The voice gained an edge as it answered.
    “You need not know why. We have many responsibilities and in Kregen we—” and here when I interrupted, not understanding, the voice snapped: “The easiest concept for you to grasp is melting pot. Yes. We are almost sure your brains can understand that.”
    I wasn’t sure: I didn’t say so.
    “A dead numim, did you say?”
    “As a doornail, poor devil.”
    This was followed by a long silence.
    After a space I said: “I did see, earlier, the green presence of Ahrinye—”
    “Silence, onker!”
    Well, if the young and arrogantly energetic Ahrinye was trying a scheme on against the other Star Lords, he might well be successful if their powers really were fading. And young? Maybe he was a million or so years less in age.
    Presently the voice — and I thought it was by a shade different from the first — said: “Our responsibilities sometimes demand assistance.”
    Almost, almost I blurted out: “Call on me, any time.” But I managed to keep the black bile down.
    The Star Lord went on: “If we so will it, you will be called on to serve in the bacra area—”
    “Bacra area?”
    “Where you were, fambly.”
    That did not mean anything to me.
    “But we deem you to be more useful following the course we have set out—”
    “A course I initiated before you suggested it, Star Lords! I don’t forget that.”
    A silence.
    Typical of the Everoinye, they loftily ignored that point. It was, in truth, a petty point, and indicating my own stupid self-esteem. They indicated they were unhappy at the way I risked my neck for