Free Mad Moon of Dreams by Brian Lumley Page B

And I’ve had dealings with Zura’s zombies and Lathi’s termen. The former can’t help themselves and the latter are more termites than men. They have insect instincts—termentalities, so to speak. But these buggers—”
    â€œThey are something else, I agree,” Limnar answered. “And I believe I know why we find them so objectionable. It’s because they are what they are: almost-human. Zura’s zombies, whatever they are now, were once men, poor creatures—and Lathi’s termen never were men. But the Lengites could be men! That is to say they’re intelligent, they have emotions (I think), they trade with men—however dubiously—and they share other human traits. They are, literally, almost -humans! That’s what so disgusts you: the fact that creatures so nearly men should be so, well, un -manlike.”
    Gytherik gave a little shudder. “Me, I prefer gaunts any old time. Even ghouls might be better than horned ones. King Carter, I’m told, has a personal friend in the ghoul-leader, who himself was once a waking-worlder. So ghouls can’t be all that bad.”

    â€œI never met a ghoul,” Hero shrugged, his attention on Eldin, “so I don’t know. But just look what the old lad’s up to.” Half-frowning, half-grinning, he nodded in Eldin’s direction. “You can talk about un-humans all you like, but when it comes to devious minds there’s nothing to touch the minds of men. And my pal there can be devilish devious when he’s of a mind.”
    The Wanderer had had the Lengites trussed up in small nets, to each of which he had attached a rope. Now, on his instructions, as Gnorri II sailed higher, her crew lowered the horned ones over the side and made fast the ropes to the ship’s rails. Eldin, grinning, leaned over the rail and peered down at them. He casually picked at his nails with the razor-sharp point of a wicked-looking knife.
    â€œRight, you two,” he said at last to the helplessly dangling pair. “Your Captain called us pirates, so I don’t see why we shouldn’t act the part. That being so, this is my version of walking-the-plank. It’s called cutting-the-rope. I’ll explain how it works … Are you listening?”
    Their yellow eyes gazed hatefully up at him; but each in his turn, they nodded. “Good,” Eldin continued. “Right then, this is how it works: I ask questions and you answer them—truthfully. If you don’t answer, or if I suspect you’re lying, then I cut through a little strand of rope. There are perhaps ten such strands to each rope. Now you black-hearted sods being what you are, there are bound to be lots of lies, which means that sooner or later one of you goes whistling down to the desert. Splish! ” Eldin paused a moment to enjoy the low moans of terror which now floated up to him from his squat, until now silent, captives. Finally one of them spoke:
    â€œYou could not do it,” came the creature’s paradoxically oily croak. “Your much-vaunted human compassion would never allow it.”
    â€œThat voice,” said Limnar, frowning. He crossed to the rail and peered over. “Your red sash gives you away, my friend,” he said after a moment, speaking to one of Eldin’s victims.
“Your sash and your voice. You are—were—the Captain of the wrecked ship!”
    â€œAs one Captain to another, then,” came the gravelly answer, “I request you put an end to this and set us free. These waking-worlders are marked men. If you side with them you too are marked.”
    â€œWhen I asked you to land your ship you fired on us,” Limnar was quick to remind. “You are now paying the price. What the Wanderer does with you is no concern of mine.” He moved away from the rail.
    â€œWhich leads me to my first question,” Eldin continued. “How, exactly, are we marked men? Hero