The Queen of Zamba by Camp L. Sprague de

Author:Camp, L. Sprague de [Camp, L. Sprague de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Adventure, Fantasy, Sci Fi & Fantasy
ISBN: 9780895590060
Amazon: 0895590069
Goodreads: 945437
Publisher: Davis Publications
Published: 1949-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

X.

Feeling hands trying to turn him over, Victor Hasselborg opened his eyes. His head ached frightfully.

“He lives yet,” said one.

“Which can’t be said for the other,” said somebody else. Their general chatter made a dull roar in Has-selborg’s head.

With great effort he pulled himself into a sitting position and felt of his pate. At least there did not seem to be any fragments of skull grinding together like ice floes in an Arctic storm, though his hand came away bloody. The dasht’s bolt must have grazed his scalp and carried away his hat, which lay on the stones between him and the wall.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Just let me alone a minute.” He wanted no Krishnan fingers exploring around the roots of his dyed hair or his glued-on antennae.

“Look!” said a voice, “a new method of sighting a bow, by the stars! Had we such at the battle of Meozid—”

“… by Qondyor, not knightly; he should have warned Jam, so that—”

“… has the new dasht reached his majority?”

Hasselborg realized that the king was looking down at him. He got up, staggered a little, and finally found his balance.

“Yes, sire?” he said.

The king replied: “Master painter, you’ve riven me of a good vassal, a good stout fellow. Though since it had to be one or the other of you, I’m not altogether displeased ‘twas he. While a strong and loyal right arm, there’s no denying he was difficult. Yes, difficult. Kidnaping gentlewoman. Get you to the surgeon and have your crown patched, and then let’s to the painting again. It had better be good, now. I suppose I shall have to attend his funeral; barbaric things, funerals.”

“I thank Your Awesomeness, but with my head feeling the way it does, I’m afraid the picture would look pretty gruesome. Can’t we put off the next sitting for a day at least?”

“No, varlet! When I say I wish it today—but then, perhaps you’re right. I shouldn’t wish my nose in the picture to wander over my face like the Pichide River over the Gozashtando Plain, merely because my artist can’t see straight. Get you patched and rested, and resume your work as soon as may be thereafter: Stray you not from the city, however.”

“I don’t suppose I need these guards any more, do I?”

“No, no, they’re dismissed.”

“And d’you mind if—”

“If what? If what?”

“Nothing, Your Supremacy. You’ve done me enough favors already.”

He managed a teetery bow, and the king minced off. Hasselborg had been about to ask to be allowed to move back to Haste’s palace, where the service was better organized, when it occurred to him that he would be encouraging Fouri to think up some scheme to lure or coerce him into marrying her.

Fouri was gushing over his survival and Haste was congratulating him in more restrained style, when a rough-looking individual said: “Master Kavir, may I have a word? I’m Ferzao bad-Qe, captain of the late dasht’s personal guard.”

When he got Hasselborg aside, the man continued: “Now that the death of the

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