(eng) Alan Burt Akers - Dray Prescot 11 by Armada of Antares

Author:Armada of Antares [Antares, Armada of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Of a Savapim and the Savanti

Could I take this man? A fighting man trained by the Savanti, in as ferocious form as I had seen a man on a hair-trigger of violence? And, moreover, a man armed with that Savanti sword which is, I truly believe, the most perfect sword on the face of Kregen, not excepting the fantastic Krozair longsword?

Could I take him?

“Hurry, rast! My patience wears thin! Speak up!”

I jerked my head back. I saw — a mere glance in passing — a drop of my blood on the gleaming blade he had so thoroughly cleaned on dead men’s clothes.

He took that as a signal of treachery and drove in instantly.

I had only a rapier and main-gauche. There was scarcely time to explain to him that I was not in the habit of speaking up with a sword at my throat — not, that is, unless absolutely no other course lay open. The other course here was starkly plain. I could get my fool self killed. I skipped back and the main-gauche came out of its scabbard seemingly of its own volition; his blade screeched against it. The following rapier thrust — the rapier had leaped into my hand, out of the scabbard, and pointed at him as though alive — passed through thin air. He danced away.

“You fight well. But I think you are a dead man.”

Could I possibly face a man armed with a Savanti sword? I had never done so before except in practice in Aphrasöe, and that, clearly, was a different kettle of fish.

“Damn!” I burst out. “You’re a bunch of rogues in Aphrasöe these days! Can’t a fellow wish you Happy Swinging without a sword at his throat?”

“Tell me what you know of Aphrasöe and I will not slay you.”

“And if you don’t speak civilly I’ll have to teach you a lesson! Do you know Maspero?”

“Yes.” The brand gleamed in the lamplight as he let it drop a fraction.

“He was my tutor.”

“You are a Savapim?”

I had never heard the word before. It must mean a man who was an agent of the Savanti. Boldly, then, lying in my teeth, I said, “Of course, you damned great onker! What is your name?”

“Oh, no. You tell me your name, onker.”

Well, at least we were past the sword stage and to the probably more fruitful arguing stage. I did not laugh. I do not laugh easily outside the company of Delia, my children, and a few close friends, as you know.

Anyway, what confounded name should I give? The old and always amusing question popped up again. The Savanti could not have realized I was in the tavern when they had dispatched this man — one of their Savapims — to sort out the quarrel. Unlike the Star Lords, who dumped me down in the middle of a problem of life and death stark naked and weaponless, the Savanti at least equipped their agents with clothes and weapons. The Star Lords are altogether a starker group, starker, darker, and far more deadly.

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