Free Maxie’s Demon by Michael Scott Rohan Page B

right?’
    ‘It is no politicsexcept your own, Maxie!’ said the Oriental guy smoothly, tugging his moustaches. ‘From here on in what’s good for Maxie is good for the world. Or we’ll know the reason why!’
    The voices had a pull to them you can’t imagine, the women’s especially as they hung on to my arms and laughed. If I’d been maybe a year or two younger, a bit more impressionable, who knows? It was mad, it was scary – butso was the thought of going back, to Ahwaz and Chaddy and the rest. And if the pitch had been maybe just a bit more modern – like, nobody mentioned fast cars – then …
    Whoknows? I don’t. But I did know who I was – five feet and two inches tall, less than ten stone stripped, about as muscular as Aunty Mary’s canary and with a beak to match too. And I was supposed to go off and boss this gang ofbutchers, buccaneers or brigands or whatever?
    ‘Come’ee with us, skipper! Off aboard the lugger, and to our ship! Off to a life like no king’s ever dreamed of—’
    ‘Travel and adventure! Strange places and strange musics! Lust and wine and riches—’ That was the other woman, the straggle-haired Hispanic type.
    ‘Away from yer crappy little life hereabouts – away from every hurt and humbling—’
    ‘Pleasureand power, and we a sharp sword in your right hand,
para siempre amigos verdaderos!
To do your every bidding! Come now! Come! Come away,
venid!
’
    ‘Come with you?’ I mouthed, appalled. I couldn’t make out who that was. ‘You must be bloody mad. You
are
bloody mad! What are you, anyhow? Robert frigging Newton?’
    ‘Arhar, Maxie lad?’ The one I’d grabbed enquired amiably. I could see the whites of hiseyes rolling. ‘Bloody mad, if you say so, skipper! Come along now, the lugger be just hereabouts!’
    ‘I’m not your frigging skipper!’ I protested. ‘And I’m sure as hell not getting aboard any boat of yours!’
    ‘Ah, but skipper—’
    ‘Maxie-eee!
Mi jefe, mi corazon
—’
    They were all over me again, promising me this, that and the other. Quite a lot of the other, in fact. They wouldn’t take maybe for ananswer, let alone no. It felt as if they were about to scoop me up and carry me off. I was cold and wet and terrified and I had half the marsh up my jeans, including some of the wriggly bits, and the last thing I wanted was to be shanghaied off to Nowhere Land aboard this lot’s lugger, whatever that was.
    ‘Look!’ Ishouted, threshing my arms free and trying to pump up my courage. ‘Just – leaveme alone, will you? Just – just bugger off!’
    Slowly, drooping, they let my arms fall and shuffled back, looking like a dog that’s been told off. The blond man threw up his hands protestingly.
    ‘Hey, but de skipper—’
    ‘Bugger off!’ I was beginning to get bolder the less they responded. And angry, angrier by the moment. Something was sounding little warning bells in the back of my mind; the lasttime I got this angry, things had exploded. But nothing seemed to be happening here. ‘Look,’ I erupted, ‘you’ll do anything I say, will you? Then go on, hop it! Bugger off – or I’ll make you do it literally!’
    The whipped-cur act again, with noises of protest and disappointed disbelief. ‘Ar,’ said the rough-voiced one. ‘’Tis best leave ’im settle his mind awhile, ’tis a mortal big step!’ Theyclustered around again, baying sober agreement.
    ‘So!’ said the Oriental type, talking past his knife like a tycoon with his cigar, ‘we will go, then. But hearken to this, lord Maxie! You do not believe in us because you do not believe in yourself. We know a born leader when we see one.’
    ‘Arhar! We needyou, an’ we’ll not let ’ee waste thyself thus, no, me bold heart!’
    The women, who’d sunkdown on their knees by my side, slid gracefully upright. One of them lifted her curly hair high, with a mocking giggle. ‘The offer is still open, Maxie.
E altro infortunio
, it brews for you!’
    The other one,