Renegade Swords II by D. M. Ritzlin

Author:D. M. Ritzlin [Ritzlin, D. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DMR Books
Published: 2021-03-07T22:00:00+00:00

Killer

By David Drake and Karl Edward Wagner

“Killer” is a collaboration between David Drake and Karl Edward Wagner, but it didn’t begin that way. The original version was by Drake alone, under the title “Hunter’s Moon.” Drake submitted the only copy of the final draft of that manuscript to Fantastic, whose editor didn’t return it. In 1974 Wagner asked if he could rewrite an earlier draft of the story. Drake agreed, and later said “The result was a true collaboration: totally rewritten, half again as long as my version, and wearing a new title.” In the ‘80s Drake and Wagner expanded the story into a novel, also titled Killer. The last time the shorter “Killer” appeared in print was over twenty years ago.

Rain was again trickling from the grayness overhead, and the damp reek of the animals hung on the misty droplets. A hyena wailed miserably, longing for the dry plains it would never see again. Lycon listened without pity. Let it bark its lungs out here in Brundisium, or die later in the amphitheater at Rome. He remembered the Ethiopian girl who had lived three days after a hyena had dragged her down. It would have been far better had the beast not been driven off before it had finished disembowelling her.

“Wish the rain would stop,” complained Vonones. The Armenian dealer’s plump face was gloomy. “A lot of these are going to die otherwise, and I’ll be caught in the middle. In Rome they only pay me for live delivery, but I have to pay you regardless.”

Which is why I’m a hunter and you’re a dealer, mused Lycon without overmuch sympathy. “Well, it won’t ruin you,” he reassured the dealer. “Not at the prices you pay. You can replace the entire lot for a fifth of what they’ll bring in Rome.”

The tiger whose angry cough had been cutting through the general racket thundered forth a full-throated roar. Lycon and the Armenian heard his heavy body crash against the bars of his cage. Vonones nodded toward the sound. “There’s one I can’t replace.”

“What? The tiger?” Lycon’s tone was surprised. “I’ll grant you he’s the biggest I’ve ever captured, but I brought you back two others with him that are near as fine.”

“No, not the tiger,” Vonones grunted. “I meant the thing he’s snarling at. Come on, I’ll show you. Maybe you’ll know what it is.”

The Armenian put on his broad felt hat and snugged up his cloak against the drizzle. Lycon followed, not really noticing the rain that beaded his close-cut black hair. He had been a mercenary scout in his youth, before he had sickened of butchering Rome’s barbarian enemies and turned instead to hunting animals for her arenas. A score of years in the field left him calloused to the weather as to all else.

For the beasts themselves he felt only professional concern, no more. As they passed a wooden cage with a dozen maned baboons, he scowled and halted the dealer. “I’d get them into a metal cage, if I were you.

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