Fires of Scorpio by Alan Burt Akers Page A

shall like you, Ashti. You are smart and quick.”
    Ashti just glowered at Pompino. She said, hard and determined and with a mind made up: “I’m thirsty. Sazz.”
    Pompino’s ferocious whiskers bristled up. His foxy face with that supercilious curl to his mouth and the damyoutohell eyes regarded me with lofty scorn.
    “You keep a lady waiting for a drink, Jak? What has become of your manners?” Then, very gallant, very polished, he bent down and crooked his arm. “My lady Ashti. Pray, allow me to escort you to the Swod’s Revenge, where my good friend Palando the Berry will provide sazz in abundance.”
    She gave a swift, liquid, upward glance at me. I nodded. Then, and only then, she took Pompino’s arm. They set off for the tavern.
    Time enough when Pompino was settled with a drink under his belt to tell him of the attack on his family. They were safe now, there was nothing Pompino could do. Ergo, let us get comfortable in our relationship again before we opened up new problems.
    Palando the Berry looked at us, swiped his cloth at the counter, and said: “So you found them, then, Pompino.”
    “Aye, Palando. The child fooled me.”
    We sat in a corner and it being almost time, wine was brought. Ashti looked at the flagon, and I said: “Stick to sazz or parclear for as long as you can, my girl. They bear less hard on the stomach and the purse.”
    “My girl?” said Pompino.
    So I sketched in how I’d run across Ashti. Then I said: “We parted on a scheme to steal a voller. I know you took her. I also can guess you waited for me. But, I was otherwise engaged.”
    “We waited for you, Jak. Then the Kildoi, Drogo, became impatient. It was not wise to argue with him.”
    “No. I can see that. Anyway, no harm was done.” I told him what had happened and how I’d indulged in Death Jikaida, and then I said: “And you’ve been working for the Star Lords again?”
    “Of course. It is all that keeps me sane. My wife — well, enough of that. And I’ve been importuned by these confounded idiots of Lem recently.”
    I told him what had chanced at his house.
    He did not jump and go rushing up there. He held his glass steady. He said: “And the children are safe?”
    “Yes.”
    “And the lady Pompina?”
    “Your wife is safe.” I put a fist to my chin, and then said, “There were four of them, as I have told you, an apim, a Brokelsh, a Rapa and the other fellow. The lady Pompina slit all their throats.”
    “Well, Jak, what else did you expect?”
    I drew a breath. “What else, indeed?” Still talking, finishing the wine, we brought ourselves up to date. Then Pompino rose. “Well, I shall have to go home some time. You will be dining with us, of course. Chenunga will have the place cleaned up by now if I know him. Come on, Jak. Let’s go and eat and talk. Maybe, if we are lucky, the Star Lords will send us out on an adventure for them.”

Chapter eight
    Pompino and I plan a Jikai
    In some societies on Kregen, custom demands that a host and hostess sit at either end of a long table with their guests between them. Other cultures ordain that a host and hostess sit side by side with their guests around them. Others place the host and hostess each within a circle of guests in semi-obliviousness one circle of the other. Where there are more than one host and one hostess — as in the quadrim people of Loghrangipar — more variations ensue.
    In Tuscursmot, wherever originally the people had traveled from to settle here, they held dinner parties with style. And you have to remember that on Kregen, besides the differences of location and culture, you have also the differences of racial stock in a form far more violently different from anything here on Earth.
    The Khibils of the inner sea, the Eye of the World, accustomed to the ways of the folk there, might have been surprised at the social mores of the Khibils of South Pandahem. The Khibils of other parts of Paz would have their own customs. The variety remains