Lurulu Read Online Free Page B

and seated himself, and watched while Myron made a few final entries. Myron closed his ledger and looked toward Maloof, wondering what was in the wind.
    Maloof asked: “Is there outbound cargo to interest us?”
    Myron nodded. “A good bit — all trans-shipment. About half a bay for Blenkinsop.”
    “I see.” Maloof showed no great interest. Myron thought that he seemed preoccupied. Presently Maloof said: “A few days ago I mentioned that I might have some private business here at Coro-Coro.”
    “So you did,” said Myron. “As I recall, you used the word ‘lurulu’ in this connection.”
    Maloof nodded. “I am inclined to think that I spoke carelessly. My quest is more prosaic. I want to resolve a mystery which has been troubling me a long time.”
    “What sort of mystery?”
    Maloof hesitated. “I’ll explain, if you have the patience to listen.”
    “I’ll listen, of course; in fact, I’ll be happy to help you in any way that I can.”
    “That is a kind offer, which I am tempted to accept. But first, I should mention the very real possibility of danger.”
    Myron shrugged. “There will be two of us. If nothing else, I can guard your back.”
    “Perhaps it won’t come to that,” said Maloof, without conviction. “In any case, I am pleased for the help, especially since your temperament seems suitable for this sort of undertaking. Wingo and Schwatzendale are excellent fellows, no doubt, but for this particular work neither would be at his best. Wingo is too artless and Schwatzendale too flamboyant. What is needed is someone quiet, subtle and unobtrusive, or who will adapt himself to such a role; in short, a person like yourself, with a cap pulled down to hide your blond hair, which is rather conspicuous.”
    Myron decided to take the remark as a compliment. It could be worse, he reflected.
    For a time Maloof sat deep in thought. At last he stirred. “I will explain the background to the case. It is not simple, but I will try to be succinct. I must start many years ago — at Traven on the world Morlock, in Argo Navis. I was born into the patrician caste and spent a privileged childhood, which now seems unthinkably far away. My father was a banker, and wealthy. I remember him as a tall, erect gentleman, fastidious, humorless and definite in his views. My mother was altogether different: she was pretty, frivolous, impulsive and always ready to try a new fad. We lived in a grand house overlooking Faurency Weald, with all the country clubs spread out before us, all the way to Leyland Forest. My father and I were never on the best of terms — my fault more than his, so I understand now. When I was eighteen I left home to become an IPCC cadet, which further estranged both my father and mother, who wanted me to become a banker. In those days I was wild and reckless and thought very well of myself. Six years of IPCC training ground away the worst of my rough edges, and brought discipline into my life. In the end I was commissioned a junior officer, Level Eight, and I thought that my parents might even be pleased with me. I was allowed a short leave of absence, which I spent at Traven, even though my father had become more opinionated than ever, or so it seemed. Now I understand that I had never appreciated his regard for me and that my leaving home had left him forlorn and lonely. My mother, on the other hand, seemed more frivolous and foolish than before. She fluttered and flitted about in girlish frocks, more fluffy-minded than ever. I felt concern for both of them and was sorry to return to duty.
    “I was sent out on a tour of service which took me here and there across the Reach, and finally, after a promotion to Level Six, I was posted first to Olfane on Sigil 92, where I was promoted Lieutenant Grade Five, and then to the town Wanne on the hard little world Dusa, at the very brink of Beyond. Wanne was reputedly the meanest posting on this side of the Reach. I survived; I learned what there was to be