Sean McMullen by Souls in the Great Machine

Author:Souls in the Great Machine
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-07-07T23:22:56+00:00

Fr

SOULS IN THE GREAT MACHINE

“

““Something called shrink-wrap prevents aging, or so I have read.

“Speaking to Call creatures, maybe I can. Stop Call over Calldeath abandons.

Glasken is key. Call using lust as hook. Glasken having lust with no relenting. Have developed technique with lusting tension.”

“Glasken. The name is vaguely familiar. I shall check with my Calculor and find his history.”

“With only Glasken, it works. Tried others. Guarding carefully, Glasken.”

“Inspector Milderellen will do that, have no fear.”

Glasken and Weldie had been in the hayloft for an hour when the butt of a twin barrel Morelac obliterated his reverie. Weldie had been kneeling in the hay while Glasken introduced her to the bull-and-cow position. She heard a heavy thump and Glasken had slid off her.

“Sorry I could not get here earlier,” said Lemorel as she turned Glasken’s body over.

“That’s all right, Frelle Inspector. Shames me to say that I quite enjoyed him.”

“There’s no accounting for taste. Help me get him back into his trousers.”

“I made sure that he kept most of his other clothes on.”

“Up, lift, push him down the chute—there. Now go! There’s ten gold royals waiting beneath your pillow. Forget this ever happened.”

“Good fortune, Frelle Inspector. You’ll not kill him, will you? I mean, he was, well—”

“I need him alive more than you could believe. Now go!”

For all her skill with a flintlock, Lemorel was not exceptionally strong. Glasken, clubbed and bound, still weighed over 220 pounds. The camels padded about restlessly as she dragged him across the stables.

“Down! Down, damn you!” she hissed at the Alspring camels—that did not understand commands in Austaric and remained standing.

“Permitting me help, Frelle,” said a voice from the darkness.

Lemorel dropped at once and rolled behind Glasken’s body, the Morelac in her hand.

“Shooting not, Frelle. Sound bring soldiers.”

The voice was soft, conspiratorial.

“Come out where I can see you” was all that Lemorel would concede.

Lemorel watched as Ilyire emerged from a corner and into the light diffusing in from the lamps outside. He tugged at a camel’s reins and softly barked “Kush! Kush!” It knelt at once. He took Glasken under the arms and heaved him into the saddle, then strapped him securely to the frame.

“Shill! Shill!” he hissed, and the camel stood up. “Kush, down.

Shill, up. Remembering, please to. How to saddle and load others, you did?”

“I had a stable hand to do it hours ago. There’s nothing suspicious about strapping saddle packs onto camels.”

“Ah, but camel turd Glasken suspicious, yes? Why you wanting him?”

“To guide me to a man named Nikalan.”

“Sickly one, Nikalan? Glenellen, is taken there. All I know. Making maggot rescue Nikalan?”

“Glasken’s the guide, I’ll do the rescuing.”

Ilyire’s composure slipped, and he seemed really aghast.

“You? Woman rescuing? Pervert acting, no, no, scriptures tell protect women.”

The light was bad, and he barely noticed Lemorel’s hand flicker. A palm sized metal star thudded into a post beside his head. He gasped and jerked aside, leaving several hairs stuck to the post.

“Fras Ilyire, in Austaric society you must choose the people that you insult with exquisite care.

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