Free Masks of Scorpio by Alan Burt Akers Page A

last eat?”
    “Just before we were captured.”
    “Then everyone is starving?”
    “When the ship is ready to fly, then we will eat.”
    I had to agree. But my insides were railing at me like a pack of bloodthirsty werstings.
    She found a bottle, and at least I could slake my thirst. She wore the rags of her once-proud uniform.
    The breeches were tattered, and the bodice was ripped. There were bruises on her shoulders. Her rank insignia had been torn off.
    “What grade of Hikdar are you, lady?”
    “Ley-Hikdar, majister.”
    She was four rungs up the ladder of promotions within the Hikdar grade; when she reached zan, ten, she might become a Jiktar. Now we had latterly amended the rank required to command the larger ships of the air. Once an ord-Hikdar could command a large flier. This had bothered me, used as I was to the idea of a person commanding a regiment of soldiers being of the same rank as a person who commanded a goodly sized ship. So, now, Jiktars commanded the great sailing fliers of Vallia.
    I said: “I cannot promote you immediately to Jiktar, lady, much though I would wish to do so. The Lord Farris has final jurisdiction in the Air Service. But I can and do right gladly promote you to ord-Hikdar.
    At once.”
    She took that calmly, with a grave nod of her head. Strong-willed, resolute, she knew what she was about.
    “Thank you, majister.”
    She told me a little more of the terrible time when the late captain had gone insane, and the Pandahem voller had bounced them. Any sailing ship, whether of the sea or the sky, has always to be particularly cautious of a powered vessel. I tried to lighten the tone of these proceedings.
    “Well, you can see now that I am unable to sign on with your ship’s company. I have things I must do here.”
    “Of course.”
     
    “I would be grateful if you would furnish me with pens and paper. Now I have the opportunity, I will write letters. I would ask you to deliver them for me.”
    “With pleasure.”
    So, down I sat at her desk, with pens and much of the superior Kregan paper, and wrote. To whom I wrote and what I wrote will, in general, be obvious. I wrote cautioning Drak that armies were being raised in Pandahem against him in southwest Vallia, which he knew, and went on telling him much of what had occurred, and that he could rejoice that his sister had... At that point I fell to chewing the end of the pen and staring vacantly about the ruined cabin. That Dayra had reformed, seen the error of her ways, rejoined the fold? That was not quite as we saw it.
    In the end I wrote that Dayra worked actively for Vallia and that the great rascal Zankov had suffered a broken back, and if he was not dead then the spirits of Hodan-Set had missed their mark. Also, I told Drak that he must summon regiments of our best from Hamal. Down there we had been triumphant; now it was up to the Hamalese to work out their future. I would write, as well; but if Drak was to be Emperor of Vallia — as he was, as he was, the stubborn prideful fellow! — then he had to show Vallia and the world that he was the emperor.
    After a dozen or so letters Vylene came in to see how I was getting along. She carried a pewter plate on which reposed four exceedingly hard and gritty biscuits. She put the plate down with a clatter on her desk.
    “I decided we should all take a short breather and have something to eat. Some of my girls are faint with hunger.”
    With perfect composure, I said: “I give you thanks, lady.” The way I spoke, the cut of my jib — both gave me intense pleasure. I’d remained calm, cool, perfectly polite. By Djan! That, I tell you, was a great victory!
    In one corner of the cabin stood a brightly painted wooden tub with an earthenware inset, filled with good rich earth of Vallia. A pathetic-looking stump stuck up from the middle. She saw my glance.
    “Those devil-spawned rasts of Malpettar took all our palines, and cut down my bush.”
    About to make a reply that, I felt,