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foolish announcement there and then. Soldiers approached the
golem.
In exasperation, Gerrard flattened another guard and
shouted. "If you won't fight him, detain him."
"How?"
"I don't know! Dance with him!"
"Dance?" Karn asked as the giant loomed up.
"Hold him tight! That's an order!"
With a deft move that belied his bulk, Karn reached out,
grasped the giant about the waist, and flung him into a heady
spin. Karn held on tightly. He whistled a hornpipe he'd heard
aboard Weatherlight, and his feet pounded out a precise
imitation of the reels he'd seen Sisay perform. However, the
effect was somewhat different. The giant was not a good
dancer. It did not even seem to be trying. When its feet were
not stomping down atop Karn's, they were smashing bookstalls
or overturning juice carts or caving walls. Its hand motions
were also a bit abrupt, more roundhouse than rondo. Still,
Karn did not give up on his student-as long as no one got
hurt, what was the harm?
Laughing, Gerrard turned from that scene to one less
funny.
On the high end of the road, Mercadian soldiers escorted
another creature to the scene. This monster's eyes glowed
orange within a skull that was molded in green muscle. Two
pairs of buglike mandibles extended from its cheeks and jowls.
They hungrily shivered beside its fangs. From its shoulders
sprouted a pair of venous humanlike arms ending in claws.
Another pair of arms emerged behind the first, these tipped in
wicked barbs. The thing's muscular abdomen was perched atop
legs worthy of a drake, complete with eviscerating talons.
"A cateran enforcer," hissed Atalla, scrambling up beside
Gerrard. "They're the meanest mercenaries the Mercadians have.
I'm getting out of here. You should too. Your folk are all
free."
"Thanks ki-Atalla. I owe you one." Gerrard cupped his
hands and shouted, "Scatter!"
Only too happily, most of the crew obliged. Only Karn
remained, dancing with his giant, and Tahngarth, who strode up
beside Gerrard.
"It has four arms, so I thought we should as well," the
minotaur said.
Gerrard smiled grimly as the thing came on. "You could
never resist a fight."
"Not when I have a good striva." Tahngarth lifted the
curved blade overhead just as the cateran reached them.
It hurled itself hungrily atop the pair.
Tahngarth thrust the striva into the beast's belly. Metal
clanged uselessly on the creature's hide. The blade that had
severed iron could not penetrate that skin.
Gerrard meanwhile rammed his trident into the thing's
fangs. It bit down, severing the prongs and swallowing them.
This was going badly.
In one clawed hand, the beast clutched Gerrard's head, and
in the other, Tahngarth's. Its grip was implacably strong.
Barbed arms entrapped them. There was no escape. Fangy jaws
ratcheted wide. The beast shoved Gerrard's head toward its
gullet as though his skull were a melon. It sank its teeth
past the tough exterior and into red pulp and reared back. Its
mouth was full of crimson chunks and seeds-
Seeds?
Squee hauled back the other half of the melon he had
rammed in the thing's mouth. He shoved the ruined fruit in the
cateran's eyes.
Enraged, the blinded beast dropped Gerrard and Tahngarth
to rake pulp from its face. It roared, melon spewing in a red
shower from its jaws.
"Squee!" Gerrard shouted, startled, "I thought I told you
to scatter-"
"-I'm glad, for once, he didn't listen," Tahngarth panted,
crouching to receive the beast's next attack.
The cateran scraped the last seeds from his face and
lunged again.
* * * * *
"Squee shoulda listened," the little goblin shrieked as
the thing launched at him. He closed his eyes, cringing back
from death. Any moment, fangs and claws and barbs would
descend and rip him to pieces. There would be nothing left of
Squee but hunks of meat, which the merchants would probably
skewer and cook and sell.... Yes, once this beast fell on him,
he'd be done for. That would be the end of the story for
Squee. A short life, over too soon ... he rather wished the
beast would get on with the killing part. The suspense was
getting monotonous.
Squee opened his eyes to see something altogether
unexpected. The cateran had stopped midlunge and fallen to its
scabby knees. It looked up beseechingly at Squee. The goblin's
incredulity was mirrored on the faces of Gerrard and
Tahngarth.
Through jagged fangs, the cateran pleaded, "Forgive me,
Master."
Squee looked over his shoulder to see who the beast
addressed.
"He's talking to you, Squee," Gerrard hissed nervously.
Squee splayed a hand on his chest and mouthed, "To ...
Squee?"
 Gerrard only nodded.
"I did not realize a Kyren sponsored these ... worthies. I
did not realize these were your friends."
Squee considered, folding arms over his chest and frowning
disapprovingly. "Well, dey are! How 'bout dat!"
"I was only following orders," the beast buzzed out, still [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]