1192 lines
71 KiB
Plaintext
1192 lines
71 KiB
Plaintext
From WHITEJL@DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU Tue May 12 09:07:48 1992
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(5.65c/IDA-1.4.4/pen-ident for <RITA@EFF.ORG>); Tue, 12 May 1992 09:07:41 -0400
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Message-Id: <199205121307.AA25423@eff.org>
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Received: from DUVM by DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU (IBM VM SMTP R1.2.2MX) with BSMTP id 3203; Tue, 12 May 92 09:03:42 EDT
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Date: Tue, 12 May 92 09:03:39 EDT
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From: "SilentElf" <WHITEJL@DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU>
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To: RITA@EFF.ORG
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Status: OR
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1 /
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DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
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D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 4
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-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Issue 3
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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\
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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-- DargonZine Volume 4, Issue 3 06/06/91 Cir 1102 --
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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-- Contents --
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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What are Little Girls...? Bryan Maloney Yuli 3-4, 1014
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Pact Max Khaytsus Yuli 10-11, 1014
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Fortunes 2 Max Khaytsus Yuli 15, 1014
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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1 What are Little Girls Made of?
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by Bryan Maloney
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(b.c.k.a. <MALONEY@PURCCVM.BITNET>)
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Aimee held her breath when she heard more crashing from outside.
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Were the Be-innyson soldiers coming again? She wished that she was in
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the castle with Daddy and Grandfather. She closed her eyes and wished
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harder, so hard that she could feel her fingernails digging into her
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hands. She opened her eyes and saw she was still in Grandfather's
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shop. Wishing never worked by itself-- you had to go and make it work
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for even the littlest things.
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She'd been here since yesterday, when the Be-innyson soldiers
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started throwing rocks at the city walls. She'd been taken to Old Town
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with the other children and put near the castle--but she had left
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something very important behind. When Grandfather picked her up and
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put her in the wagon to Old Town her puppy Karl had jumped out of her
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arms and run into Grandfather's home.
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Grandfather told her that he'd make sure to bring Karl if he had
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to go to Old Town too. Then she'd heard that the Be-innysons had made
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holes in the New Town wall and were coming in. She was smart enough to
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know that Grandfather would be too busy to find Karl, so she sneaked
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out--it was easy enough with so many children around--to find Karl.
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When she got to Grandfather's, Karl was there--but Grandfather
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wasn't. The puppy was upstairs in Grandfather's rooms. He had tipped
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over a jug of Grandfather's awful, bitter drink and was lapping at it.
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Aimee had to laugh at the way the puppy staggered and yelped--like
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Grandfather did during the Melrin festival. Aimee had gathered the
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puppy in her arms and was about to leave when she heard marching,
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clanking feet.
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She ran to a rope hanging over a table and pulled her feet up,
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dangling with one hand while the other held Karl. Slowly, the stairs
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to the attic came down, and Aimee climbed them. She sat on a
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projecting board she had fastened to the stairs (when Grandfather was
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away once) and pushed them closed. Then she pulled the rope up through
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its hole. She carefully made her way around the holes in the floor to
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the attic window. There she lay down to watch the street.
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Soldiers were coming from her left. They marched in straight
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rows, making a terrible noise. She could tell that they weren't
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Dargon's soldiers. They had square shields and carried an ugly banner
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with a big metal bird on top of it. They had to be Be-innysons!
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Aimee was nervous, but not really scared. She'd remembered
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hearing Grandfather tell Goodman Corambis that the attic had been made
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by smuggil-ers to hide in and see down below. (The next day she
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sneaked into the attic to see. Grandfather was right--she could see
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everything through the holes in the floor. Best of all, Grandfather
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couldn't see her. The ceiling was built very high with rough logs and
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painted to make the holes look like parts of a pattern.)
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Then she saw Thomas Redcap. He had been sleeping in a doorway.
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Thomas was always drunk and he smelled bad, so Aimee stayed away from
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him. But nobody ever did anything to him because he never hurt anyone.
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Two of the soldiers had picked him up and were shaking him awake.
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Thomas woke up and the head soldier--did Be-innysons have
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captains?--said something to him. Aimee suppressed a
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laugh--Be-innysons were stupid people! Everybody knew that Thomas
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couldn't say his own name just after he woke up.
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Thomas just stared at the soldier. When the soldier started to
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yell, Thomas tried to run. The soldier took his sword and stabbed
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Thomas in the back. Thomas kept trying to run, but the soldier kept
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stabbing him. Finally, Thomas fell down and the soldier stabbed him in
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the neck.
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Aimee started shaking--these were terrible men! They were demons
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like Mother Clariss the Priestess had told her about! She watched the
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men pick up Thomas and toss him in the gutter. Some of them actually
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laughed! Then the captain shouted something Aimee didn't understand
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and the men went into buildings.
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Aimee froze, clutching Karl. Three of them had come into
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Grandfather's place! If they would kill harmless old Thomas Redcap,
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what would they do to her? She inched over to a smaller peephole and
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looked into the rooms below. Karl squirmed and whimpered.
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"Be quiet, Karl!" she whispered.
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Karl tried to lick her face. He began to wriggle more, and Aimee
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was afraid that he would start to bark. She couldn't let him go--he
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might fall into one of the larger holes and start to yowl. What could
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she do?
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Karl then belched, softly. Aimee grimaced. he smelled just like
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Daddy and Grandfather did at the Melrin festival--of course!
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Grandfather kept some of his jugs up here in the winter so they would
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be cold when he drank them. Maybe he'd forgot to take some down this
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spring. Aimee looked around until she spied a pile of earthen jugs.
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"Will you be quiet if I give you a drink?" Aimee whispered as she
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crawled over to the jugs. The clay stopper was fastened with wax, and
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she had to dig at it with her fingernails. Karl, smelling the
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beverage, was whining in anticipation.
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Aimee pulled the stopper out and poured some of the brown
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contents into a depression on the floor. Karl lapped fast and furious.
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Aimee then went back to the peephole.
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The soldiers had come up the stairs from the public rooms and
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were searching Grandfather's rooms, turning over everything that could
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move. Aimee was glad that the table was heavy oak, or she would have
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to jump from the bottom of the stairs when she left. Finally, one of
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the soldiers found Grandfather's jugs he kept by the table. They
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laughed and stuffed them into their packs. Then they left.
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Aimee went back to the attic window and looked at the street. The
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soldiers were gathering together. The captain yelled something and
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they went back into lines and marched away. After they were out of
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sight, Aimee went to the board nailed to the stairs and lowered them.
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Then she scampered down and went immediately to a cupboard that had
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been ripped open. She ran her fingers on the top of the bottom shelf,
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along the outside rim, until she found a catch. She pulled the catch
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and a small door on the opposite wall swung ajar. This was another
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thing made by smuggil-ers, according to Grandfather. She ran to the
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secret cupboard and looked--it was there.
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Grandfather had once been a soldier, and he had kept a few
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souvineers. One was a big greatsword, too heavy for Aimee to lift.
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Another was a decorated crossbow that Grandfather had gotten as a gift
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for helping in some battle or another. The greatsword was
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gone--Grandfather took it with him probably, but the crossbow was
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still there, hidden with Grandfather's other treasures. She knew that
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she couldn't wield it, but she would still feel safer if she had it
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with her. She grabbed the weapon and a handful of silver-inlaid bolts
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and ran back into the attic, withdrawing the stairs behind her.
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"I know what I'll do." She thought, "I'll wait here until I see
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some Dargon soldiers march by, and then I'll come down and tell them
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I'm Aimee Taishent and they'll take me to the castle because Daddy's
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in the guard."
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She lay down by the attic window and watched the street. After a
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while, Karl staggered next to her and collapsed in a heap.
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"Did you have enough?" Aimee whispered.
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Karl emitted an enormous belch and went to sleep.
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"Karl, you smell worse than Thomas Redcap." Then she
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remembered--Thomas lay on the street, dead, holes poked into his body
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by the Be-innysons. Softly, Aimee began to cry. The tears flowed
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smoothly down her cheeks until they dripped on the floor. Then she
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began to sob, trembling. Her throat started hurting, but still she
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cried. Her head started hurting--still she cried. Aimee wept until
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after sundown. Then she slept.
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She woke the next morning to the sounds of battle. She looked out
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the attic window to see a mob fleeing down the street. Behind them
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were more Be- innysons. They were hitting people, not even chasing
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them. Just running over them and killing them. Aimee suddenly felt
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terribly guilty.
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"I'll never knock over another anthill. I promise." She
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whispered. "Just please, Bright Cahleyna, don't let the soldiers come
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in here."
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The mob passed and the soldiers followed them, not stopping to
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look in any buildings. Aimee breathed a sigh of relief. How long would
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it be before the Dargon soldiers came by? Would they ever? There were
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so many Be-innysons, what if they won? Would they come and kill her
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like they did Thomas Redcap? She started to cry again.
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She stopped when she heard Karl whining. The puppy was lying on
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his belly, forepaws over his ears, eyes tightly shut.
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"It serves you right, Karl." Aimee whispered. "Now you'll
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remember how awful that stuff is to drink." Aimee then realized how
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terribly hungry and thirsty she was. She also needed to go
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outside--badly. But the Be-innysons were out there! She looked around
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until she saw some old junk in a corner. Maybe there was a chamber pot
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in the pile! Desperately, she climbed into the castoffs and began to
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dig. The pile was huge--Grandfather never threw anything out. She
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began to tunnel into the heap, which nearly touched the roof.
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"There's my toy cart!" Aimee stated.
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Karl stood at Aimee's exclamation and dragged himself to the
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pile. He whimpered at his mistress.
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"Karl, I was going to pull you around in this, but a wheel fell
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off. Grandfather said he would fix it, but I guess he just lost it in
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this mess. I'll make him put it together when he comes back." Aimee
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stopped digging. Would Grandfather come back? Would anyone? She
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started to cry, but her sobbing breaths reminded her of a lower call.
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She quested further into the heap. Finally, she caught at glimpse of
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glazed clay. Tossing small bits of junk aside, she found a cracked
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chamber pot.
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After she relieved herself, she had a terrible thought--"How do I
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get rid of this?" she asked herself. Aimee decided that she would have
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to leave it here until she could think of something.
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She was still thirsty, though. Aimee grit her teeth and picked up
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a jug. She pried it open and took a drink. Yak! It was even more awful
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than she remembered. But it helped her throat, so she drank more. She
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put the stopper on the jug and sat down next to the attic window,
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watching the street for Dargon soldiers. Karl wobbled over and lay
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down beside her. Aimee picked him up.
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"Karl, I wish you were a great knight like the old Duke Clifton,
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then you'd put me on your horse and we'd ride straight to the castle.
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And if any Be- innyson soldiers tried to stop us, you'd take your
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sword and kill them." Aimee thought about the Be-innysons; she thought
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about Thomas Redcap; she thought about the people running away, killed
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like ants; and a strange feeling started inside her. It was cold, but
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somehow comforting. The more she felt it, the better she felt.
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"I hate you, Be-innysons." she said, and for the first time in
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her life, she knew what that meant.
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Aimee watch the street until she had to relieve herself again.
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She went over to the chamber pot--it stank. Aimee sighed, there was no
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helping it. Grandfather would understand about the smell. She walked
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to the chimney and unlatched a metal door. Grandfather had put it in
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himself so he wouldn't have to hire a sweep to clean the flue and he
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wouldn't have to go on the roof to clean it himself. The special bendy
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brush Grandfather used was on the floor beside the chimney.
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She opened the door and poured the contents of the chamber pot
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down the chimney. Grandfather kept the flue closed unless he had a
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fire, so she knew it wouldn't splatter in the fireplace and give her
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away. She would have to remember to warn him before he opened the flue
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next time. Again she relieved herself and emptied the pot. That was
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when she heard the crash.
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She crept to a peephole and looked down. A Be-innyson soldier had
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chased an older girl into the building and up the stairs to the rooms
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below. He had a terrible grin on his face. He grabbed the girl and
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threw her onto the floor. Then he ripped her skirts and petticoats off
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and opened his codpiece. Aimee immediately knew that the man wanted to
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sex (or s-e-x, as Grandfather always said around her. She was six
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already--she'd heard what grownups did! Anyway, she'd seen Karl get
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born.), but the girl didn't want to--the soldier was going to hurt
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her!
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A flame started in Aimee's heart and crept up her throat. She was
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going to stop him! He was a Be-innyson, and all they ever did was hurt
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people. She didn't care how big he was or what weapons he had. Aimee
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Taishent was going to stop him! She scampered to the attic window--no
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one was on the street. At least it was only him. The girl had started
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screaming. Aimee went to a peephole and looked down. She saw the man
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forcing the girl onto the floor. Desperate, Aimee caught the crossbow
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on a nail jutting from a pillar and pulled back the string with both
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hands.
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"Please, Father Ol, keep the string from breaking."
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Aimee pulled, leaning away from the crossbow. The string dug into
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her fingers, feeling like a knife. Finally, the catch clicked--the bow
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was cocked.
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Her fingers hurt too much to move--there was already a purple
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line across them--but she forced herself to drop the bolt into its
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slot, like she had seen the guards do in practice. Then she started
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running toward the stairs.
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On her way, a flash caught her eye. The soldier was right under
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one of the larger holes in the floor--Grandfather called them murder
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holes. It was very big, Aimee had almost caught her foot in it. She
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looked down and saw the soldier's back, right below her. She carefully
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aimed into the hole and and gasped as the bolt slid out of the
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crossbow and through the hole below. You had to hold the bow straight!
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She'd heard Daddy tell that to his men, but had forgotten. She
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remembered now.
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Aimee heard the soldier shout and then a crash. What would he do?
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He couldn't get to the stairs, she knew that, but what would he do?
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She looked down through the hole. The soldier wasn't there, but the
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girl was. Her head bled and she lay in a ball, quaking. Where was the
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soldier?
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Aimee ran to another murder hole and looked down--no soldier! Had
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she scared him away? She ran to the stairs to lower them, but stopped
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dead as she saw them come down by themselves. Frozen with fear, she
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watched as the Be- innyson soldier came up the stairs, holding a
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pole-arm with a hook upon it. He smiled at Aimee and approached her,
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weapon held low.
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Aimee stared at the soldier as he walked toward her. He was
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talking, saying something she couldn't understand. When he had cleared
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half the distance between them, Karl charged the foreigner with a
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squeaking snarl. The soldier batted the pup aside with his polearm.
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As soon as Karl took to the air, yelping, Aimee awoke. The
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soldier wanted to hurt her! She ran around the soldier, trying to make
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for the stairs, but he just turned and swung his polearm in front of
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her. She tried to duck around the weapon, but the soldier just stepped
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and hit her with the haft.
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She fell over, bruised, and heard the soldier laugh. She looked
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up and saw him heft his weapon, then he swung it. The blade descended
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upon her like a foot upon a beetle. Aimee tensed herself for the blow,
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her last, when she heard a thump beside her. The soldier had missed!
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Was he too drunk to hit her? She looked at him and her hopes died as
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she heard him start to laugh. He aimed another blow at her, missing by
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inches. He was playing with her-- just like boys played with rats!
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Aimee scrambled backwards on all fours; the soldier advanced,
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smirking. He said something in his own tongue and laughed. Aimee still
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went back. The soldier stopped to watch her. Finally, Aimee hit
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something--it was the junk heap. She started to climb into it and
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froze as the soldier yelled and charged toward her, weapon lowered.
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Desperate, she grabbed at the pile below her. Her hands came up
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with a piece of wood. It was the shaft from Grandfather's old cloak
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tree. She had broken it last year by swinging from it and knocking it
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over. Grandfather was so mad he didn't even spank her--he just told
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Daddy! She pulled up the piece of wood and held the end before
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her--the top with a pointed bit. It wasn't long enough! The soldier's
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weapon was easily twice as long. And she couldn't even pick it up
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besides, the other end was tightly wedged in the pile.
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"I'm sorry, Daddy." she whispered.
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At that moment, the soldier discovered one of the murder holes.
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His right foot came down exactly upon a larger one and went in. The
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bones of his ankle ground against each other and cracked. Yet the
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momentum of his charge was too great to be halted by this minor
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setback. Instead, his body flew the last few yards through the air and
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landed upon Aimee. His polearm entered the pile, headfirst, catching
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Aimee's skirts upon the hook.
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Aimee opened her eyes. Above her lay the soldier. Why wasn't he
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doing anything? Then she noticed that her hands were warm. She looked
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down to wher she had been holding up the end of the cloak tree and
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gasped when she saw it go into the soldier. She looked up at the young
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man. He was a youth, with a light mustache beginning to form. Aimee
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noticed that his hair was reddish and looked very soft. He was
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motionless, breath coming in ragged gasps. Tears poured from his eyes.
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Aimee watched the final spasm shake the soldier before he stopped
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breathing. Then she looked at his face. He had the same look that
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Thomas Redcap did when the soldiers cut him down.
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Aimee went limp on the pile, sobbing. She was as bad as the
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Be-innysons! She thought that killing the soldier would make her feel
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better, but it didn't. She felt awful, even worse than the time she
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had been throwing stones to knock down apples and accidentally hit a
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squirrel. She dragged herself out of the pile, tearing her skirt on
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the hook. Sobbing, she ran down the stairs.
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More than anything she had to get away--she'd killed somebody.
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That was the worst thing you could do! Grandfather had taught her that
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Ol and Cahleyna valued all life, and now she had killed someone. She
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had to hide--go where no one could find her. She ran for the stairs to
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the street level when she collided with a soft form.
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"Where did you come from?" Aimee heard someone say.
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Aimee looked up and saw the face of the girl. Unable to speak,
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Aimee pointed up.
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"You say you came from heaven?" The girl's eyes were wide. "Were
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you an angel sent by Cephas Stevene to rescue me?"
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"No." Aimee was finally able to say. "I came from the attic. I
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tried to shoot the bolt at him and he--" Aimee burst again into tears.
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"I killed him!"
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The girl held Aimee tighter. "It's all right, honey. He was going
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to hurt me, and you only wanted to stop him." Aimee felt a hand on her
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chin, lifting her face.
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"I am Marta, what's your name?"
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"Aimee, Aimee Taishent." Aimee said.
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"Are you related to the mage?"
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"He's my grandfather!"
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"No wonder you're so brave. Living around magic must be very
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exciting. I bet you can even read." Marta smiled and stroked Aimee's
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hair.
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"It's not all that exciting." Aimee said, "Usually he just sits
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and studies, except when he has a customer, but I can read."
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"Where is your Grandfather?"
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"He's in Old Town. He went there when the Be-innysons--when
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they--when--" Aimee began crying again.
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"It's all right, honey. One way or another, it will be over
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soon." Aimee and Marta embraced, each comforting the other.
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After a time, Aimee snuffed and said, "Go into the attic, it's
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not safe to be down here."
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"What about you?" Marta asked.
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"I'll be right behind you." Aimee said. Yesterday she had been so
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scared that she forgot Grandfather's secret stash. It was where he
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kept all the wonderful things he wasn't supposed to eat at his age.
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She crawled under the table and pushed a knothole--smuggil-ers had to
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be the most fun people. A small trapdoor pushed up and Aimee lifted
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it.
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Underneath were pickled sweetmeats and fish salted so heavy it
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crackled. There were also some pickled plums from Bichu. Aimee liked
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these, even if they burned on the way down and made her feel funny.
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|
She put it all on the table and closed the trap door. Then she climbed
|
|
on the table and put the lot in her torn skirt. After she climbed into
|
|
the attic she sat the food on the floor and raised the stairs.
|
|
As she finished pulling up the stairs, she remembered--the
|
|
soldier was up here! She couldn't turn around, she might see him.
|
|
Aimee stood, trembling, and stared at the stairs.
|
|
"It's all right, Aimee, I covered him."
|
|
Aimee turned around. Marta had covered him with the blanket she
|
|
had taken from Grandfather's bed to cover herself up. She was trying
|
|
to pull her ruined skirts around her.
|
|
"Wait, Marta." Aimee lowered the stairs and ran down. For once
|
|
she was glad that Grandfather got cold. Sometimes she hated how he
|
|
always had two blankets--it made sleeping with him too hot. She pulled
|
|
the other blanked out from under the bed and brought it into the
|
|
attic. When she returned, Marta had already started on the sweetmeats.
|
|
"I haven't eaten since before yesterday." she said.
|
|
"Neither did I." Aimee replied. "I'll get something to drink."
|
|
She walked to the jugs and got one. The two began to feast, only
|
|
pausing to drink the over-warm beer.
|
|
When they had finished eating, Aimee went to the attic window.
|
|
"What are you looking for?" Marta asked.
|
|
"I'm waiting for Dargon soldiers."
|
|
"Oh." Marta sat, quietly.
|
|
After a time, Aimee looked back at Marta. The older girl was
|
|
sitting, rocking back and forth. Tears flowed down her cheeks and
|
|
throat. Her body shook with silent sobs. Aimee ran over to her.
|
|
"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Aimee put her arms around Marta.
|
|
"That man--he wanted to..." Marta put her head down.
|
|
"I could see that, but I stopped him." Aimee was puzzled. He
|
|
hadn't been able to hurt Marta, but Marta still seemed hurt.
|
|
"I know you stopped him, and he didn't hurt my body, but he hurt
|
|
my heart." Marta wiped her face. "He scared me and tried to do
|
|
something terrible." Marta began sobbing.
|
|
"He broke the Third Law of your Stevene, didn't he, Marta?"
|
|
"What do you know about that, Aimee? They don't teach the Third
|
|
Law to little girls."
|
|
"I can read. Mother Clariss is a Priestess for Stevene and she
|
|
used to come around and talk to me before Grandfather chased her away.
|
|
One time I sneaked one of her books out of her pouch. I kept it up
|
|
here until Grandfather found it. He was so mad--I don't know why."
|
|
"Perhaps your Grandfather is pagan...mine was."
|
|
"I don't know about that, but he made me pray all day to Ol for
|
|
that."
|
|
Marta looked Aimee in the eyes, "Then you worship Ol?..."
|
|
"Of course I do. Grandfather tells me all about him."
|
|
Marta took Aimee on her lap. "Despise not the pagan, for they may
|
|
still be good of heart." she whispered.
|
|
"What did you say?" asked Aimee.
|
|
"Just a little prayer of thanks that you were here, Aimee--What
|
|
were you saying about the Third Law?" Marta dried her eyes.
|
|
"Well, I think it goes: 'The sexyoual act is a sacrament. It is a
|
|
holy gift of pleasure...' that means good feeling, you know."
|
|
"Yes, I know, Aimee." Marta smiled, faintly. "Go on."
|
|
"...'a holy gift of pleasure from God. He who violates this gift
|
|
shall burn, but she who is violated...' Why did Seefas Stevene say
|
|
'she' there, anyway?"
|
|
Marta sighed, "I think he had some idea what things are like in
|
|
the real world."
|
|
"Okay, anyway: '...she who is violated is as pure as before, by
|
|
My Holy Word. Let none gainsay...' That means disagree. '...this
|
|
decree."
|
|
"Thank you Aimee." Marta hugged the young girl.
|
|
"Do you want to pray, Marta?"
|
|
"I would like that."
|
|
Marta recited the Plea to Stevene and the Creed of Mercy. Aimee
|
|
listened to the alian phrases. Stevene people prayed strangely, all
|
|
full of begging and pleading. Praying to Cahleyna and Ol was much
|
|
easier. You just thanked them for the good things and asked them to
|
|
help with the bad things. When Marta was done Aimee looked into her
|
|
eyes. They were brown and dark, just like Karl's fur--Karl! Where was
|
|
he? She looked around the attic and then, to her horror heard, at the
|
|
same time, Karl barking from below and a roar, like the parade at
|
|
Melrin Festival, coming down the street.
|
|
"I've got to get Karl!" Aimee cried as she ran to the stairs.
|
|
"No, Aimee, the battle's come this way." Marta grabbed Aimee and
|
|
held her tight. "Anyway, you've already proven that the Stevene looks
|
|
after brave little girls and foolish puppies very well."
|
|
"Are you sure?"
|
|
"Yes." Marta lied.
|
|
The two sat by the attic window to watch, fearfully.
|
|
"They're coming." Marta whispered.
|
|
Around the corner came a Beinison legion, banner torn, shields
|
|
broken, ranks ragged. Behind them was a veritable mob of an army. Here
|
|
a soldier in fine armor hacked at a Beinison shield; there three
|
|
street toughs pelted a lone Beinison with cudgels. Old men threw
|
|
rocks; young men wielded spears. It was a rabble, but it drove the
|
|
foreigners back. Behind this line were ranks of ill-matched soldiery.
|
|
Dargon personal guard mixing with town militia. Noblemen marching
|
|
alongside common thugs.
|
|
The two girls watched the foreigners get pushed down the street,
|
|
almost as if the stones of the city had risen against them. Then there
|
|
was quiet.
|
|
"Do you think we should go out?" Aimee asked.
|
|
"We ought to wait for our soldiers to look for us. Things could
|
|
change."
|
|
Aimee nodded, and the two waited, breathlessly.
|
|
Hours later, after sundown, the girls heard noise from below.
|
|
"She's got to be here!" They heard a man yell, "It's the only
|
|
place she'd go!"
|
|
Aimee ran to the stairs and lowered them as fast as she could.
|
|
"Aimee, stop, it could be a trick!" Marta called.
|
|
Aimee, heedless, ran down the stairs, one word on her lips.
|
|
"Daddy!" She ran into her father's arms.
|
|
"I guess we found her, Lieutenant." a soldier in sergeant's
|
|
livery said. "Anything else you want?"
|
|
"No, thank you sergeant." Jerid Taishent replied. "You can go
|
|
now."
|
|
"Right!" The sergeant saluted. "All right, you crowmeat, we've
|
|
got Beinison cowards to mop up! Move yer asses!"
|
|
The soldiers left at a trot.
|
|
Marta walked down the stairs, blanket wrapped around her. Jerid
|
|
looked up at the sound of her. The first thing he saw were her eyes.
|
|
Somehow he couldn't look away.
|
|
"Who is this, Aimee?" Taishent asked.
|
|
Marta blushed and pulled at the blanket.
|
|
"That's Marta, Daddy." Aimee said. "Some man tried to hurt her so
|
|
I killed him."
|
|
Jerid winced at his daughter's words.
|
|
"Beggin' yer pardon, sir," the Sergeant had returned, "but we'll
|
|
be needin' ye to help wi' the moppin' up."
|
|
"I'll be right there," Jerid said. He put Aimee down. "You stay
|
|
here until Grandfather or I come for you. Will you do that? Don't come
|
|
out of the attic unless you actually see one of us."
|
|
"I'll wait right here." Aimee said, seriously. "Karl!" Aimee
|
|
dived under the bed and retrieved the wriggling puppy. "You'd better
|
|
stay with me, or some Be-innyson will come along and cut you into
|
|
gloves."
|
|
As Jerid left the shop, his sergeant approached him.
|
|
"Me 'n the men," he said, "would like to say that we're sore
|
|
happy that ye lost none o' yer family."
|
|
"Sergeant," Jerid replied, "Thank you--and the men--for that, but
|
|
you're wrong." Tears frosted his eyes. "My little girl died today."
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
1 Pact
|
|
by Max Khaytsus
|
|
(b.c.k.a. <khaytsus@tramp.Colorado.EDU>)
|
|
|
|
Kalen stood on a wharf at the north end of the town of Dargon,
|
|
looking into the darkening ocean. The sun, setting to the west, was a
|
|
red disc half engulfed by the water. Menacing red shadows fell across
|
|
the port and the city walls as a fresh reminder of the Beinisonian
|
|
invasion only a month ago.
|
|
He paced, looking at the havoc raised by the fighting. The piers
|
|
were ruined, torn apart so that the Baranurian fleet had no place to
|
|
dock after the battle was won. A large, hundred foot, merchant ship
|
|
was almost completely submerged in the water not far away. It had been
|
|
in port when the Beinison ships arrived and minutes later it was deck
|
|
deep in the water. Now the hull was half buried in the sand and the
|
|
tides were slowly dismantling the ship. There was nothing to salvage.
|
|
The city walls were battered as well. The solid stone was cracked
|
|
and chipped and in one place the stone wall had all but crumbled to
|
|
dust.
|
|
A creaking of the wooden walk alerted Kalen to turn. He noted a
|
|
dark shape walking towards him from the eastern end of the docks,
|
|
almost completely hidden by the dark. Two days ago Kalen received an
|
|
anonymous note asking him to meet the sender here. The missive was
|
|
brief and cryptic and could not be traced, but the lieutenant felt
|
|
that it was something important. Ilona insisted that he not go or to
|
|
at least bring guards, but the note explicitly told him to come alone,
|
|
so he did.
|
|
The shadow approached and Kalen recognized it for one of Liriss'
|
|
henchmen. He wondered again if it was a trap or a set-up, but the man
|
|
he was meeting was not armed. Kalen likewise had not brought his
|
|
sword, but his eating dagger could always be used as a last resort
|
|
weapon, as it has done a few times in the past.
|
|
Kesrin Mardos stopped a few feet from Lieutenant Kalen Darklen,
|
|
carefully studying the acting Captain of the Guard. He was carrying a
|
|
heavy proposition, ready to create a life-long associate or a
|
|
life-long foe.
|
|
"What did you want?" Kalen asked.
|
|
"What my Lord wanted," Kesrin answered without emotion.
|
|
"What did the rat send you for now?"
|
|
Kesrin suppressed a smile. He would have to use that line later.
|
|
He often thought of Liriss as a rat, himself -- the same moustache,
|
|
grown recently, unkempt hair ever since the Beinison invasion, and a
|
|
growing need to be the master of all he could, whether it served a
|
|
purpose or not. Like a dog on a stack of hay, will not eat it and
|
|
won't let a horse near.
|
|
"The rat," Kesrin spoke in a dry voice, it was all he could do to
|
|
contain his amusement, "asked me to deliver you a proposition."
|
|
"Which is?" Kalen was just as dry. There was nothing pleasant
|
|
about being propositioned by a gangster in the middle of the night on
|
|
a dark pier with no weapons or guards in sight. It would be like
|
|
making a deal with the death god, J'Mirg, or Amante, or Nehru, or
|
|
Balen-Ruk, or whatever all those religions called him, and hoping to
|
|
come out ahead. Kalen was not sure where he got all that religion, but
|
|
these were all one and the same. In this case Liriss.
|
|
"He wishes to hire you."
|
|
"For what?!" Kalen exclaimed, realizing he had begun to drift.
|
|
Working on both sides of the fence was just what he needed.
|
|
"For information! Control!"
|
|
"No," Kalen shook his head, the grim darkness agreeing with him.
|
|
"That's absurd. That's against the law."
|
|
"Hear me out," Kesrin said calmly. What was Kalen expecting?
|
|
Information about a whore-house to close down? "We are ready to do
|
|
things for you. We can make you the Captain of the Guard..."
|
|
"You're not the only one," Kalen interrupted.
|
|
"But we can do it now! We know you want it."
|
|
"I'll wait until Captain Koren retires," Kalen said. He knew he
|
|
was the logical choice for the position as soon a the present captain
|
|
would become tired of the job, something he did not expect to happen
|
|
for years.
|
|
During the Beinisonian invasion of Dargon, Captain Koren was
|
|
severely wounded and for the last month had been in the care of Duke
|
|
Dargon's personal physician, Elizabeth of the Pass. He was not
|
|
expected to be up and about for at least another month more and Kalen
|
|
held his job by default, pending Adrunian Koren's improvements under
|
|
the care of the physician.
|
|
"I'll wait until he is ready to step down on his own," Kalen
|
|
repeated.
|
|
"You will naturally be provided with inside information on our
|
|
competition, to aid you in their apprehension," Kesrin continued.
|
|
"You don't understand..." Kalen started, but Kesrin did not
|
|
yield.
|
|
"We will also pay you the exact same salary as the Duke. Think
|
|
about it! Double the money for one job!"
|
|
"What would you want from me in return?" Kalen asked cautiously.
|
|
"Nothing that you'd have to work hard for. Just ignore what Lord
|
|
Liriss does and make sure his competition stays out of the way..."
|
|
A rather simple job, Kalen thought to himself, but still not
|
|
worth doing. Money is not everything. There was also a certain part of
|
|
living that's involved in life and to live well morality must be
|
|
upheld.
|
|
"I can't say I'm interested," he answered.
|
|
"There are others..." Kesrin let the threat trail off.
|
|
"Not others that can make captain," Kalen returned.
|
|
"Not if you're alive," Kesrin agreed.
|
|
"If I had my sword, I'd take you in," Kalen said through his
|
|
teeth.
|
|
Kesrin smiled. "What for? Being outside the city gates after
|
|
dark? Curfew was lifted a fortnight ago. Or are you upset over being
|
|
threatened? It's only your word against mine...and you're the acting
|
|
Captain of the Guard." It was not certain if that last was being used
|
|
in a mocking way.
|
|
"If I had my sword," Kalen corrected himself, "I'd run you
|
|
through." He turned, walking away from Liriss' right hand man. There
|
|
was nothing to talk about and nothing to fight with...or for. If not
|
|
Kesrin, then another. It never stopped. It was better to keep known
|
|
criminals where they were, in order to track them with ease.
|
|
Kesrin grabbed Kalen's shoulder and spun him around. The
|
|
Lieutenant cringed from the pain that shot down his arm. "If we don't
|
|
hear from you by tomorrow night, we will assume you made up your mind.
|
|
We'll make the same deal with someone else. You are neither the first,
|
|
nor the last."
|
|
Kalen grabbed Kesrin's collar, violently yanking him up, but not
|
|
being able to lift him off the ground in this manner. His shoulder
|
|
screamed out in pain again. "Who else, you bastard? Who are you paying
|
|
off?"
|
|
Kesrin broke the grasp on his tunic. "Lieutenant Shevlin was
|
|
working for us. He died an honorable death. Make sure you don't wind
|
|
up just another body on the street! You have until tomorrow!"
|
|
Lieutenant Kalen Darklen watched Kesrin return into the darkness.
|
|
He wanted to follow, but the danger of that was hundreds of times
|
|
greater than the meeting itself. He watched the man disappear into the
|
|
darkness, then slowly walked back through the hole in the
|
|
fortification to return home.
|
|
Although the darkness had only settled, the streets of the city
|
|
were all ready empty and quiet. The winding street that Kalen chose
|
|
took him to the deserted market place. He stood at the opening to the
|
|
alley, studying the square, wondering about the proposition Kesrin
|
|
presented. Kalen could not imagine that Lieutenant Shevlin, a man he
|
|
worked so closely with for a number of years, could be a turn-coat,
|
|
but he had no evidence either way. Shevlin always did his job and did
|
|
it well -- he was Kalen's main competition for the position of Captain
|
|
of the Guard -- he was one of the most efficient officers in the
|
|
guard, being offered twice to switch to the Duke's personal guard.
|
|
Yet, Kalen had wondered in the past about how Shevlin could afford to
|
|
buy some of the things he had on a lieutenant's pay. Either way, he
|
|
died in the invasion. No answers would come from him.
|
|
Kalen wondered if he should accept the offer extended to him, to
|
|
go in under cover, to watch the criminal underworld and then strike
|
|
when least expected, but then he remembered the price he would have to
|
|
pay -- Adrunian Koren's life -- and eventually his own. It was too
|
|
steep.
|
|
A pair of lanterns appeared on the other side of the square. They
|
|
were carried by six men -- a patrol. With a sigh Kalen decided to
|
|
return home.
|
|
* * *
|
|
Ilona Milnor paced back and forth in her small rented apartment.
|
|
She had warned Kalen not to go to the meeting, but he stubbornly
|
|
insisted. When she said she was going to go with him, he made her
|
|
swear that she would wait for him to return. Now she was angry she
|
|
made that promise. It could have been a trap and she just let him walk
|
|
off. She walked over to the table on which she had placed her sword
|
|
and belt and started putting them on, but then unstrapped the buckle
|
|
and returned the belt and weapon to the table. She had lost count of
|
|
the number of times she went through this procedure this evening.
|
|
Kalen was an ambitious officer. He became a lieutenant after only
|
|
five years of service and at the age of twenty-nine was all ready, the
|
|
best candidate for the position of Captain of the Guard. He almost got
|
|
that that job, not to long ago. Captain Koren was gravely wounded in
|
|
the invasion and there was some doubt as to weather or not the Captain
|
|
would make it. Kalen was one of the few who said he would. He confided
|
|
in Ilona that he was afraid of taking the Captain's place, that there
|
|
was still so much he needed to learn and do before he could admit to
|
|
himself that he could take care of the town. For now, while Captain
|
|
Koren was still recovering from his injuries, Kalen was getting some
|
|
of the experience he claimed he lacked and in the last month he had
|
|
done an amazing job of running the city on his own.
|
|
Ilona once again went over to the table, contemplating the sword.
|
|
If Kalen was not back in a few more minutes, she would go after him.
|
|
The thought of this made her chuckle. She had been thinking about
|
|
going all evening and accumulated two or three hours worth of these
|
|
"few more minutes" intervals. This was it. She put the sword-belt on,
|
|
got the sword and went out. The air outside was cooler, though it was
|
|
very humid. Ilona looked up and down the street. The way the street
|
|
was situated, Kalen could return from either direction. She hesitated,
|
|
not wanting to miss him because of lack of patience and an over active
|
|
imagination. Kalen always complained that she was not patient enough.
|
|
As she stood there, contemplating what to do, someone appeared up
|
|
the street, walking towards her. Ilona immediately recognized the
|
|
person as Kalen. She hurried towards him, meeting him half way. She
|
|
immediately spotted the red stain on his left shoulder.
|
|
"What happened to you?"
|
|
"It was Kesrin. He wanted to talk," Kalen answered, not quite
|
|
grasping the question.
|
|
Ilona gently touched Kalen's bloody shoulder. "You fought?"
|
|
Kalen shook his head. "Kesrin grabbed me to prevent me from
|
|
leaving. It's not his fault -- he didn't know."
|
|
"Let's go inside," Ilona suggested, taking Kalen's right arm.
|
|
"I'll take a look at it."
|
|
They slowly walked back to her apartment, with Ilona thinking of
|
|
a good way to get her message, perhaps plea, across to her lover. His
|
|
shoulder was injured during the Beinison invasion in Yule and he
|
|
stubbornly refused to let anyone know about it until they wound up in
|
|
bed a few days later. It was not a life threatening injury, but it
|
|
would not heal without the proper care and rest. Instead, Kalen felt
|
|
the absolute need -- that misplaced loyalty of his -- to coordinate
|
|
and supervise guard activities until Captain Koren was ready to resume
|
|
his duties, ignoring his own needs in the process.
|
|
Inside Ilona sat Kalen down on the bed and helped him remove his
|
|
tunic. The scab on his shoulder was freshly torn and a trickle of
|
|
blood ran down his chest. She soaked a clean rag in a basin of water
|
|
and began cleaning the wound.
|
|
"This is the second time this week," she noted.
|
|
Kalen grunted in agreement. It was hard to tell if he was being
|
|
sarcastic or not.
|
|
"I want you to make me a promise..."
|
|
"I'm very bad with commitments." He tried to smile, but only
|
|
gritted his teeth as Ilona ran the rag directly across the wound.
|
|
"It won't heal unless you rest," she said as Kalen jerked back.
|
|
Kalen took Ilona's hands into his. "This town won't stop running
|
|
just because I'm sick."
|
|
Ilona looked into his eyes with a pleading expression. "It does
|
|
not have to. I can do the job. So can Lieutenant Azyn."
|
|
"You don't understand," Kalen sighed. "Before the invasion there
|
|
were four of us to help Koren. You telling me two people and less than
|
|
half the regular staff can do the job?"
|
|
Ilona picked up the rag, washed out the blood and returned to
|
|
Kalen. "We don't have a choice, do we?"
|
|
"We do. I'm here. I can do the work."
|
|
"Kalen, everything is returning to normal. The people are
|
|
beginning to rebuild. The looting has stopped. The Duke's personal
|
|
forces are out on the streets along side the town guard..."
|
|
"...a ship was stolen three days ago," Kalen interrupted her, "a
|
|
warehouse was burned to cover a robbery, we have dozens of urchins
|
|
holding citizens up in the night and I was propositioned by the mob.
|
|
We need people now more than ever!"
|
|
"Kalen! You're making it worse. That wound is turning into an
|
|
ulcer!"
|
|
Kalen lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I wish I
|
|
could say there was a choice, but now there's a new problem..."
|
|
"They propositioned you?" Ilona asked, Kalen's words finally
|
|
catching up with her. She expected anything from the mob, but a
|
|
blatant offer from the them to pay off a public official was too much.
|
|
Kalen's expression was as grim as ever. "Kesrin told me they will
|
|
match what I am getting paid if I help them out now and again."
|
|
"Help them out?" Ilona picked up the strips of bandages and
|
|
started wrapping them around Kalen's shoulder.
|
|
"In addition to the money, they will insure my standing in the
|
|
guard, provide leads on other criminal dealings and the like...all
|
|
they want is free run of the city."
|
|
Ilona shuddered. "They can't be serious. What did you say?"
|
|
"I said `no'. What else could I tell them?"
|
|
Ilona put her arm around Kalen and pulled him to his side, to
|
|
face her. "Please stop trying to be a hero. Let the wound heal."
|
|
Kalen put his arms around her, pulling her closer and hiding his
|
|
face in her long light brown hair. "I wish I could..."
|
|
* * *
|
|
The following morning Ilona left for work at sunrise, leaving
|
|
Kalen asleep. It was late when they finished talking last night and he
|
|
spent the night with her. She hoped that he would sleep well into his
|
|
shift, but knew it to be an impossibility. The day went normally; at
|
|
least as normal as any this week. Shortly before lunch she took a
|
|
patrol on a quick tour of the market place. This was the area of town
|
|
that suffered the most damage during the invasion. What could be
|
|
easily carried off was and over half of what remained was burned to
|
|
the ground. Then, a week after the Beinisonian forces were fought off,
|
|
a mob of people raided the merchants restoring their businesses and
|
|
destroyed what was left. The town guard, all ready reduced to half
|
|
strength, was helpless to do anything and the looting extended into
|
|
the rest of the city.
|
|
It was not until a week later, when the remainder of the Duke's
|
|
forces were able to place a greater effort into restoring the Ducal
|
|
Capital, that peace was restored to the city.
|
|
Duke Clifton Dargon, who was placed in charge of King Haralan's
|
|
navy, left for Sharks' Cove where the Beinison invasion was in full
|
|
swing. Most of his troops either went with him or were sent on to
|
|
other areas of the duchy. Only fifty or sixty men remained in the
|
|
town, in addition to the sixty-two members of the guard. Dargon no
|
|
longer needed to be defended against invasions. Any damage that could
|
|
be done to the city was all ready inflicted. Besides, Duke Dargon's
|
|
flotilla was to engage the ships that posed the greatest danger to the
|
|
city. Any infantry troop would have to first take two other duchies
|
|
and then most of Dargon, in order to reach the city.
|
|
A temporary guard station was set up in the middle of the market
|
|
place. In spite of the damage inflicted on the market, it was the
|
|
first part of town to be almost completely rebuilt and return to
|
|
normal. Ilona spotted Lieutenant Jerid Taishent of the Duke's personal
|
|
guard and after telling her troop to spread out and look around,
|
|
proceeded towards him. Jerid was the only man of any rank from the
|
|
Duke's troops still in the city. The rest, together with Bartol, their
|
|
chief, had either left with the Duke or with the troops distributed to
|
|
keep peace in the duchy.
|
|
"Are the natives restless today?" Ilona called out to Jerid.
|
|
He turned to her from watching the mobs pass by. "They are well
|
|
behaved. We arrested three or four since sunrise. What about your side
|
|
of town?"
|
|
Sometimes all sides seemed like here. "All right for now. Someone
|
|
threw a dead rat through the Guard House window, but little more."
|
|
"No trouble?" Rats were common these days.
|
|
"None that I heard off yet."
|
|
"Are you planning on staying here?"
|
|
"In town or the market place?" Ilona smiled.
|
|
"The market place," Jerid grinned back.
|
|
Ilona shook her head. "Just looking around to see that everything
|
|
is all right. You're not here because of those arrests, are you?"
|
|
"I stopped by to pick up a present for my daughter," Jerid said.
|
|
"This war business is a little much for her."
|
|
"You go on, then. I intended to stay here through lunch."
|
|
Jerid saluted Ilona and called over to one of the men at the
|
|
guard post, "Ryal, get that package and let's go!"
|
|
One of the men picked up a sizable package and followed his
|
|
commander.
|
|
Ilona returned the salute as Jerid left. She looked at the market
|
|
place, studying the people and their wares. Merchants and shoppers
|
|
alike looked tired and worn out, much as they had the first days after
|
|
the invasion, but the bruises and injuries they wore a month ago were
|
|
now mostly gone. The merchandise also looked better and better every
|
|
day. New merchants came daily from the villages in the south,
|
|
unaffected by the war, and a few caravans from Tench have also
|
|
delivered their wares. Yet, in spite of all this progress, Ilona knew
|
|
that all was not as well as it would seem. The economy was dragging
|
|
along and the prices were very high. The local merchants could not
|
|
compete with those who travelled to Dargon. Many lost their homes,
|
|
capital and stock. All had lost family and friends. Ilona sighed,
|
|
knowing how lucky she was that Kalen was merely wounded.
|
|
During the invasion she, herself, was put in charge of the castle
|
|
defense -- the last line of defense. Someone, somewhere decided that
|
|
since she was the only female lieutenant in the duchy, she should be
|
|
as far away from the fighting as possible, behind the castle walls,
|
|
waiting, just in case she was needed. And she was needed indeed.
|
|
Needed to tend the wounded when they were brought in. Ilona was angry
|
|
at the way she was treated, simply because she was a woman. She was
|
|
trained as well as any in the guard and quite likely, better than
|
|
most. But then, being behind the castle walls, she was safe, not
|
|
injured, not violated. It was something Kalen did not have to worry
|
|
about and there were plenty of things to worry him where he was.
|
|
Looking around the market place she noticed the old sage,
|
|
Corambis, talking to a few people on the corner. His was one of the
|
|
few local businesses that did not suffer the after effects of the
|
|
invasion. As soon as his booth was rebuilt, he started seeing
|
|
customers, all seeking advice for what to do next. Ilona hesitated a
|
|
moment, then, seeing the people leaving, hurried to Corambis.
|
|
The sage waited for her to approach, then smiled. "Good day,
|
|
Miss."
|
|
"Good day, Sage," Ilona returned the greeting.
|
|
"Is there a reading I can do for you?" Cormabis asked.
|
|
"I..." Ilona shuddered. She should have thought first. "There is
|
|
something I need advice on, but I can not discuss it."
|
|
The sage smiled. "State secrets are the most fleeting ones of
|
|
all. Come with me. I will only ask what I must."
|
|
Ilona obediently followed the old sage into his booth. `I must be
|
|
crazy!' she thought. `If he doesn't sell me out, I'll get killed
|
|
pulling this stunt!'
|
|
The sage absentmindedly held the door to the casting room open
|
|
for Ilona to come in. "My assistant is out helping a friend of mine, a
|
|
doctor, so I have to make do on my own. Please, be seated."
|
|
Ilona took a seat at the table sporting the wheel of life. It was
|
|
so new that it reflected what little light there was in the darkened
|
|
room.
|
|
"From my daughter," Corambis said proudly, taking a seat across
|
|
from Ilona. "She had a wood-crafter make it as soon as she heard I
|
|
lost the old one."
|
|
"A good gesture," Ilona muttered. "You're a lucky man to have a
|
|
daughter like that."
|
|
"Lucky, yes," the sage agreed, "but she had it made of pure oak.
|
|
Now I fear it favors the Valonus, but never mind that," Corambis
|
|
smiled, pride still on his face. He gave her the velvet pouch with the
|
|
casting chips inside. "Hold this while you tell me your woes."
|
|
Ilona accepted the bag. "I don't know where to begin. Some new
|
|
information has reached us in the Guard and I want to act on it.
|
|
Lieutenant Darklen may missunderstand...and if Captain Koren were
|
|
around, he would tell me to keep out of it as well, but I think I can
|
|
do a lot of good by acting on it."
|
|
"Give me that," Corambis took the bag from Ilona. "You don't need
|
|
a fortune told. You need to do some soul searching. It's a good thing
|
|
I do both."
|
|
Ilona smiled, in spite of herself.
|
|
"Now," the sage continued, "don't think yours is a one of a kind
|
|
problem. We all have to make hard decisions. You must do what you feel
|
|
is right."
|
|
"But what if I'm doing something I shouldn't be?"
|
|
"Like what? Taking advice from someone who knows nothing of the
|
|
problem? What makes me more qualified than you? That I tell fortunes?
|
|
Lieutenant, in true honesty, this is a case of the blind leading the
|
|
blind."
|
|
"But what if I'm wrong?"
|
|
Corambis shook his head in dispair. "Do you know the problem?"
|
|
"Of course!"
|
|
"And you know how you want to solve it?"
|
|
"Yes."
|
|
"And you believe yourself to be on the right track?"
|
|
"Yes!"
|
|
"Then why are you here wasting my time and your money?"
|
|
Ilona blushed lightly in the dim light. "Two years in this
|
|
position and I still don't have the confidence I need," she sighed an
|
|
offered the sage his fee.
|
|
Corambis sternly pushed the money back. "If you're wrong, pay me
|
|
later. If not, come back and tell me about it."
|
|
"I will, sir," Ilona promised and left the sage in his booth. At
|
|
least now she knew she was crazy. Corambis was right. She was wasting
|
|
time. She was not assertive enough, not confident of her abilities --
|
|
she knew what she had to do. She should just do it and accept the
|
|
results as they come.
|
|
Ilona again scanned the market place, walking from one booth to
|
|
another. The crowd had been steadily growing all morning, now being so
|
|
thick, it was hard to see more than two booths away. Ilona fought her
|
|
way through the crowd to an intersection in the rows, where the crowd
|
|
was not as congested. "Simon!" She stopped across from the old sailor
|
|
and his stew cart. The monkey jumped with a scream and pulled out a
|
|
spoon.
|
|
"Yes, Lieutenant Milnor?"
|
|
"How about some stew?"
|
|
"Which will it be?" he asked.
|
|
"Sun-sweet," Ilona answered. "I'm in a particularly vile mood
|
|
just now." She took the spoon from Skeebo and gave him the coins for
|
|
the stew.
|
|
"Here you are," Simon handed a steaming bowl to Ilona. "If you
|
|
feel bad enough, then even this will taste good going down."
|
|
"Is it true that only you and Guiseppi have been able to finish a
|
|
bowl of this?" Ilona asked, carefully sipping the spicy stew.
|
|
"What do you think?" Simon asked.
|
|
"I think it's a tall tale."
|
|
"Actually it is," Simon laughed. "I only poured myself half a
|
|
bowl and Guiseppi never had taste."
|
|
"Then I'll just have to be the first to do it," Ilona said. "I'll
|
|
see you later."
|
|
"Ah! But it won't be legitimate if I don't see you do it,
|
|
Lieutenant," Simon said and Skeebo took hold of her belt.
|
|
She petted the monkey until it let go. "I'm with the Guard,
|
|
Simon. You know we don't lie," she told him and went back into the
|
|
crowd. Behind her the old sailor sadly shook his head. Not all were
|
|
pure and innocent and not all were as honest and reliable as one might
|
|
expect.
|
|
* * *
|
|
Ilona felt a little better as she ate the burning stew. She was
|
|
determined to finish the spicy concoction and then go through with her
|
|
chosen assignment. If Kalen was not going to take the opportunity, she
|
|
was ready to do it on her own.
|
|
Looking about the market place, she noticed a young boy carefully
|
|
crawling between the feet of the people gathered around a merchant's
|
|
table. As soon as he was on his feet, he started running and she,
|
|
dropping the bowl of Simon's finest, leapt after him. It was not long
|
|
before the crowd got too thick to continue and after a bit of
|
|
struggling and dodging, Ilona grabbed hold of the boy and pulled him
|
|
up to his tip-toes by his ear. The boy was young, no older than eight,
|
|
skinny and by the looks of him, homeless. "So what did you get?" she
|
|
asked him, leading him out of the crowd. The boy did not answer.
|
|
"Ten Bits for that ear!" somebody next to Ilona proclaimed.
|
|
She looked over her shoulder to see a man in his twenties,
|
|
looking anxiously at her.
|
|
The boy jerked hard, but she still firmly held his ear and he
|
|
cried out in pain. "If he does it again, I'll give it to you for
|
|
free."
|
|
"You're not going to arrest a child, are you?"
|
|
"Are you planning to adopt him?"
|
|
The young man reached into his purse. "Five Silver?"
|
|
"Are you trying to buy a human being?"
|
|
"I wish to take care of his fine."
|
|
"So he can rob another merchant to pay you back," Ilona's eyes
|
|
narrowed. "Tell your boss I wish to have a word with him about a deal
|
|
he was making yesterday. I know someone who is looking for a job..."
|
|
"I am not leaving without the boy," the man declared, seemingly
|
|
missing what she said.
|
|
Ilona pushed the child to him. "Tell Liriss he has until sunset."
|
|
* * *
|
|
Kalen stared at the ceiling, studying the crack that ran almost
|
|
directly above him, dividing the ceiling of Captain Koren's office
|
|
evenly in half. A sheet of parchment appeared in his line of vision,
|
|
held by Ilona.
|
|
"That's it."
|
|
Kalen thumbed through the sheets. "A bit sketchy. There's more
|
|
paper than report. You could fit it all on a page or two."
|
|
"I've got a lot on my mind," she said.
|
|
"Like what?"
|
|
"Like you not getting enough rest."
|
|
"That's not your problem," Kalen said. "I know my limits."
|
|
"I won't argue with you," Ilona answered. "You all ready know
|
|
what I think."
|
|
"I know," Kalen nodded. "Just tolerate me, please."
|
|
"I'd better go."
|
|
Kalen got up. "I'll walk you out."
|
|
Ilona put her arm around his waist and her head on his shoulder
|
|
as they walked through the guard house. Kalen returned the gesture
|
|
with his good arm. "Do you want an escort?"
|
|
"I'll be fine," she said, hoping he would not insist. He did not.
|
|
At the large double doors they exchanged one final embrace and Ilona
|
|
hurried off into the darkness. She was worried about what she was
|
|
going to do, but the thoughts of what it might produce in the long run
|
|
helped relax her fears. More importantly, she believed that if Kalen
|
|
was not involved, he would not be compromised as the acting Captain of
|
|
the Guard.
|
|
The darkness hid Ilona's figure, draped in a black cloak, as she
|
|
made her way to the oldest part of town, just a few blocks from Dargon
|
|
Keep and stopped in the shadows of a building. When her eyes adjusted
|
|
to the added darkness of the alley, she spotted a tall muscular man,
|
|
also robed in black, walking in her direction.
|
|
Releasing the strap holding her sword, Ilona started towards the
|
|
figure. The man stopped a few feet from her and she recognized him as
|
|
Kesrin, Liriss' lieutenant.
|
|
"What do you want?" he asked.
|
|
"I wanted to meet with someone of authority," she answered,
|
|
trying to provoke him on purpose.
|
|
Kesrin did not appear to be affected by her statement. "Tell me
|
|
first."
|
|
Ilona did not like the sound of that, but if it was the only way
|
|
she could get to see Liriss... She told him all she had to; perhaps a
|
|
little more colorful than it really was, but it was plenty to convince
|
|
him to get her a meeting with Liriss.
|
|
Kesrin considered deeply if he should, but in the end decided it
|
|
was better not to come back empty handed and took Ilona down the
|
|
narrow winding streets of the old portion of the city. It was obvious
|
|
he took the long way and Ilona was pretty sure she saw someone
|
|
trailing them, probably to make sure that she was not being followed.
|
|
Finally Kesrin stopped at what appeared to be a random door and opened
|
|
it without knocking. Ilona followed him in.
|
|
Inside, at the end of a long corridor, was a small room,
|
|
furnished with a single table and two chairs. It was dirty, with a
|
|
musty smell and plenty of dark stains, some appearing to be blood. The
|
|
walls and the ceiling were rough and in bad shape.
|
|
"Wait here," Kesrin said once she was inside and left her alone.
|
|
Ilona sat in one of the chairs, looking at the single greasy
|
|
candle burning in the middle of the table. It cast little light and
|
|
there were no windows, not that having any would provide more light on
|
|
a night as dark as this. There were some noises in the corridor and
|
|
Ilona looked at the door, noticing deep cuts in its surface, as if it
|
|
had been attacked with an axe.
|
|
As she watched, the door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man
|
|
in his forties walked in. His eyes looked tired and the hair at his
|
|
temples was beginning to turn grey. The last year must have been a
|
|
hard one for him.
|
|
As Ilona studied Liriss, he took the opportunity to study her.
|
|
This was not their first meeting. They last saw each other a little
|
|
over a year ago, in the spring of 1013, at a celebration thrown by one
|
|
of the local merchants on his daughter's wedding. Both were guests, on
|
|
neutral ground, unable to confront each other, but this was different.
|
|
Liriss tossed back his cloak, making sure that Ilona knew that he was
|
|
armed. "It's been a long time, Lieutenant," he greeted her.
|
|
Ilona rose from the chair, politely greeting the crime lord. "Not
|
|
so very long, Liriss."
|
|
"Please be seated," he indicated to her.
|
|
Instead, Ilona moved away from the table. "I will be more
|
|
comfortable standing up."
|
|
Liriss nodded. "Up to you." Uneasy silence set in for a moment
|
|
before he continued. "If you are here to let me know that Lieutenant
|
|
Darklen is not interested in my offer, I all ready knew that at
|
|
sunset."
|
|
Ilona faced Liriss, her face a calm mask. There was no reason to
|
|
stall. They both knew why she was here and there was no turning back.
|
|
"I did not come here for him. I came here for myself. I want the job."
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
1 Fortunes 2
|
|
by Max Khaytsus
|
|
(b.c.k.a. <khaytsus@tramp.Colorado.EDU>
|
|
|
|
Corambis stood over the large table with the Wheel of Life,
|
|
scratching his head. "Thuna! Thuna, bring me a pebble from the
|
|
outside," he called out.
|
|
Something crashed with a thud in the outer room, but he ignored
|
|
it, pressing his hand down on the velvet table. It tilted.
|
|
"By Kurin's beard! Expert craftsman my ..."
|
|
Another loud crash outside drowned out the sage's words. "What's
|
|
going on out there, Thuna?" he shouted.
|
|
The door opened and Dyann Taishent stepped into the casting room,
|
|
holding his hand in the air before him.
|
|
"What is she doing?" Corambis demanded.
|
|
"I'm not sure," Taishent looked back out the door, "but she told
|
|
me to give you these," he dropped some pebbles on the table.
|
|
Corambis shook his head.
|
|
"...and she asked me to tell you to stuff them in your ..."
|
|
Another loud crash in the other room cut him off and Thuna
|
|
shrieked.
|
|
"That does it!" Corambis snapped and went over to the door.
|
|
"Thuna, what are you doing?"
|
|
His assistant jumped into the casting room and slammed the door
|
|
shut after herself. Her dark brown hair was a mess and in her hand she
|
|
held a broken stick. "You have a mouse, Sir," she whispered, trying to
|
|
maintain dignity.
|
|
"A mouse," Corambis said flatly.
|
|
"Well...a rat...maybe two..."
|
|
"Then chase it out, girl! Get the broom and chase it out!"
|
|
"I can't, Sir. It ate the broom." She handed him the stick she
|
|
was holding. Sharp grooves of tooth marks marred it on one side and it
|
|
was splintered from being hit on the other.
|
|
"In the name of Ol!" Corambis cursed. "Three weeks and we all
|
|
ready have rats! Here," he handed her some coins. "Go get me a cat."
|
|
"I don't think a cat will solve it, Sir," Thuna muttered.
|
|
"Get me something," Corambis ordered and opened the door.
|
|
Thuna peeked out cautiously, then retrieved the remains of the
|
|
broom from the sage and ran out.
|
|
Corambis sat down holding his head. "Rats all ready. It was fine
|
|
when I had the grain merchant next door..."
|
|
Dyann Taishent sat down across from Corambis. "If you're too busy
|
|
to do a casting today, maybe we can sip some cider and then chase the
|
|
rats around..."
|
|
Corambis let out a laugh. "Here, give me a hand." He scooped up
|
|
the pebbles on the table and pointed to one of the corners. "Press
|
|
down on that."
|
|
Taishent put both of his hands on the edge and tilted the table,
|
|
while the sage fumbled at the opposing leg, stuffing the pebbles
|
|
beneath it.
|
|
"There," Corambis finally got up. "Stable for now."
|
|
"Rats?"
|
|
"I wish. Trissa got some wood cutter to make me this. All the
|
|
legs are of a different length. Twenty years bringing her up and she
|
|
gets me a casting table made of oak."
|
|
Taishent chuckled. "How does it cast?"
|
|
Corambis shrugged. "Madam Labin asked me to cast for her
|
|
pregnancy. According to my casting, she will have a puppy."
|
|
Taishent's mouth dropped open. "What did you tell her?"
|
|
"I said she will have a healthy baby...if a little on the hairy
|
|
side. I will have to call her back for a second casting..."
|
|
"Do you still want to do a casting with the table acting up like
|
|
that?"
|
|
"Of course," the sage said. "But we best do it under the
|
|
influence." He got up and took a jug and two glasses from the corner.
|
|
"At least the rats haven't gotten to this."
|
|
"Jerid has been raiding my house every few days," Taishent
|
|
sighed. "He took all the cider and just two days ago carried off a
|
|
package of kavaliculi. Told me I was too old to eat all that."
|
|
Corambis filled the two glasses and handed one to Taishent. "Live
|
|
good while you live."
|
|
"I've got a new hiding spot," Taishent winked. "I'll be picking
|
|
up some pickled meats this evening."
|
|
"Now," Corambis produced a bag of chips. "The casting." He
|
|
chanted the incantation, naming Baranur as the recipient and let the
|
|
nine blue and one red chips fall to the wheel carved in the table.
|
|
The ally discs slipped to Pyrale, the torch. The adversary
|
|
markers landed on Kafarn, the ship. The other discs landed in random
|
|
areas, some rolling out to the outer rim of the wheel, where the major
|
|
power elemental symbols took form. The red disc representing Baranur
|
|
danced around the table for a time and finally came to rest on Aurus,
|
|
the mistweaver.
|
|
"Be better off chasing rats," Taishent muttered.
|
|
"Allys in water, enemies in fire..." Corambis said. "That's a new
|
|
one..."
|
|
"Only the body is on Valonus," Taishent pointed to the oak
|
|
symbol.
|
|
"Usually all of them are there," Corambis sighed.
|
|
Taishent quickly unwrapped his deck of cards and placed the Fate
|
|
card on the table with the wheel. He shuffled the deck, said the
|
|
incantation and placed another card on Fate, face down. After a second
|
|
shuffling and casting, he laid a pattern on the surface. The top row
|
|
held Sword, Wizard and Moon, the one below it contained Sorrow, Air
|
|
and Fortress.
|
|
"If I did not know any better, I'd say we're at war," Taishent
|
|
smirked with sarcasm and turned over the hidden card on Fate.
|
|
"The Jester again!" Corambis exclaimed. "That's the fourth time!"
|
|
"Fifth," Taishent corrected. "I first cast him last summer."
|
|
"Indeed you did," the sage agreed. "This makes it five times
|
|
consecutively."
|
|
"I guess we got it all right last summer," Taishent said, sitting
|
|
back down. "The unrest of the mob, the actions of that coven, the
|
|
Duke's trial...the war..."
|
|
"Do the far future," Corambis prompted.
|
|
Taishent recast the cards and laid out the last row -- Water,
|
|
Knight and Fire.
|
|
Corambis fumbled to refill their glasses with cider. "Why water
|
|
and fire?" he wondered. "Both of us..."
|
|
"Clifton Dargon's fleet?" Taishent guessed.
|
|
"But why the fire?"
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
1 **
|
|
****** ****
|
|
** ** **
|
|
**** ** ** **
|
|
**** **** ** ** ** *****
|
|
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
|
|
** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
|
|
** ** ** ** *****
|
|
** ** ***
|
|
****
|
|
**
|
|
|
|
Quanta is the electronically distributed journal of Science Fiction
|
|
and Fantasy. As such, each issue contains fiction by amateur authors
|
|
as well as articles, reviews etc... Quanta is published in two
|
|
formats, Ascii and PostScript* (for PostScript compatible
|
|
laser-printers). Submissions should be sent to quanta@andrew.cmu.edu.
|
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Requests to be added to the distribution list should be sent to one of
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the following depending on which version of the magazine you'd like to
|
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receive.
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quanta+requests-postscript@andrew.cmu.edu
|
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quanta+requests-ascii@andrew.cmu.edu
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or
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|
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quanta+requests-postscript@andrew.BITNET
|
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quanta+requests-ascii@andrew.BITNET
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Send mail only- no interactive messages or files please. Note that if
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you subscribe with a letter sent over BITNET, you will have the
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magazine sent to you as a file over BITNET, whereas if you subscribe
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with a letter sent over the Internet, the magazine will be sent to you
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by mail. Note that all issues are available from the anonymous FTP
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server fed.expres.cs.cmu.edu (128.2.209.58). If you can access this
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server and would therefore only want to be notified when a new issues
|
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has been released, please specify this in your request.
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Quanta now reaches an international audience of over 1000 subscribers.
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It is produced bi-monthly by Daniel Appelquist (da1n+@andrew.cmu.edu).
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* PostScript is a registered trademark of Adobe Systems Incorporated.
|
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
(C) Copyright June, 1991, DargonZine, Editor Dafydd
|
|
<White@DUVM.BitNet>. All rights revert to the authors. These stories may
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not be reproduced or redistributed (save in the case of reproducing the
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whole 'zine for further distribution) without the express permission of
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the author involved.
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