Part 57 (2/2)
”Technic of Metallurgypresented to one Anthony Bryce Wayland by the Alchymist Society of Manchester University.”
Denny stepped forward ominously. ”So! Our absconding strawboss from the Iron Villages. You all remember Tony Wayland, who betrayed our people at the Vale of Hyenas! Shall we hang him now-or wait till later so's not to spoil our lunch?”
Tony pulled aside the scarf he still wore at his throat. Gold gleamed. ”Don't touch me!” he cried, fingering the necklet. ”I can mind-burn you or zap you to death anytime I want to!” A very small gout of psychoenergy flew from the extended fingers of his other hand and zorched the damp moss in front of Chief Burke's boots. ”That's just a sample, Redskin! Now drop that gun-and don't any of the rest of you get cute, or-”
Tony Tony Tony.
A sprightly little ring of flames danced about Tony's own feet.
Chief Burke unb.u.t.toned the top of his green blouse and said: As you can see I've got a golden torc too. And that means I can see your metapsychic aura. It's very small. I might even call it p.i.s.s-poor ... or roughly equal to mine in the aggressive metafunctions. Unless you want to chance a fast weenie roast you lose your bluff.
”Oh, b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l,” said Tony in disgust. ”Hang me and have done with it.”
Burke shook his head. ”You're more valuable to us alive.
The aether has been buzzing about you for several weeks. It seems King Aiken-Lugonn is very anxious to make your acquaintance.”
Tony perked up, then caught a certain look in Burke's eye and slumped again. ”What have I done to him, for G.o.d's sake?
Sometimes it seems that everyone in the whole Many-Coloured Land is out to nail my hide to the wall.”
”You're trading-goods,” Burke said succinctly. ”That's all you have to know.” He turned to Denny Johnson, handing him the photon gun. ”He's your prisoner from now on, YellowEyes. Take d.a.m.n good care of him if you ever expect to do Baron Scarpia again at the Garden.”
”Take him on the Roniah operation?!” Johnson exclaimed.
”Are you out of your tomahawking mind, Peo?”
”We don't have to invade Roniah looking for arms,” Burke said. ”It's no longer necessary to use force to insure fair treatment for Lowlies, or our own pa.s.sage through the time-gate.
We'll go into Roniah openly and the King's High Table deputy, Kuhal Earthshaker, will welcome us and give us whatever we ask for.”
”Because of him?” cried one man.
The Chief nodded. ”Wayland is a turncoat and an informer and an all-round consecrated twerp. But he's also our ticket back to the Galactic Milieu.”
The gathering of desperados murmured and whispered. The Latin woman cried out, ”But Orion Blue and Karolina and the two others died because of this puto! And Basil's people were betrayed! I say he must hang!”
”It's no use, Marialena,” said Burke. ”Tony Wayland's got his reprieve right from the drumhead Supreme Court.”
She shot a murderous glance at the metallurgist. ”Well, you don't get the shorts back,” she hissed. Then she turned to the others and declared, ”Now I will make lunch.”
MARC: Cloud. Daughter.
CLOUD: Papa!
You shouldn't have come-there's dangerMARC: I'm only present in simulacrum. Like the sendings of your friend Kuhal. The garden is secluded, but Aiken Drum has fed the scanners my mental signature. I know better than to d-jump into the Castle of Gla.s.s.
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