The Wordsmiths and the Warguild Read Online Free Page B

the Wordsmiths, the baron led the way into Keep, passing between
mountainous slag heaps. They passed a few houses then a mine shaft. A fire was
burning by the shaft, helping to draw stale air up from the depths and keep the
miners alive. A creaking bucket lift was bringing up gemstock from one of the
veins which ran far underground.
            "Dismount,"
said Baron Poulaan.
             They went on
foot thereafter, leading their mounts through the tilted, canting streets.
After five generations of mining, which had hollowed out a considerable portion
of the rock beneath the town, the whole urban area was very slowly subsiding.
Hence the odd angles of the streets, which were buckling and twisting, and the
nightmarish angles of the shops and houses.
            After a slow and
dangerous journey, they reached the far side of Keep and set off for the palace
of King Skan Askander, scourge of the Hauma Sea and lord of the Central Ocean.
They had gone through the town rather than around it because Baldskull Mountain
lay on one side and Dead Man's Drop on the other.
            Once out of town, they
mounted up again, but soon had to climb down to lead their animals across a
massive subsidance in the road, which was only slowly being filled in with
slag.
            "That's new since I
was here last," said Baron Poulaan. "And that was scarcely a month
ago."
            One day, he expected to
come this way and find that the entire town of Keep had fallen into a hole. He
would not be unhappy when it did. After all, his estate never saw a single flog
or splorin's worth of the town's mining profits. He had no love for the
earthgrubbing miners, or for the merchants who fattened on the profits of the
trade in opal, topaz, jade, japonica, russellite, kolzaw, fuze, buff, celestine
and carnelian which the miners recovered from the gemstock.
            "My lord!"
said Prick, pointing. "Ahead! The palace!"
            "I saw it some time
ago," said the baron.
            Togura, who had never
been this way before, looked for the building of white marble which so many
people had spoken of, but could not see it for the fences, sheds, huts and
granubles of the surrounding piggeries.
            Shortly afterwards, they
were shown into the presence of the king, who invited them to dine with him.
            "We will be having
swedes, rutabaga and the kidneys of several pigs," he said.
            "We will be
honoured," said Baron Poulaan.
            "And, dear
baron," said King Skan Askander, "my darling daughter will be dining
with us, so your son will have a chance to meet his future bride."
            Togura nerved himself
for this ordeal. But he was confident that it could not be as bad as people had
led him to believe. After all, Slerma was only sixteen years old; there was
scarcely time for her to have grown to the enormous size which she was alleged
to have attained. She was probably just a little fat and sludgy. Well, he could
endure that - he thought. It would mean that he would one day inherit the
palace and the piggery, which would be a valuable asset once it had fully
recovered from the effects of the swine fever which had caused the Devaluation.
            If Slerma was no great
beauty, she would doubtless welcome the attentions of a real man like himself.
She would at least be a real woman, hot and wet in the right places. She would
complete his sentimental education and initiate him into manhood.
            They were shown into the
dining room. The king seated himself on a couch, which creaked ominously
beneath his weight. Then he snapped his fingers, and a young woman entered.
Togura's face fell. This was Slerma? She was worse than he had expected. She
was more than plump; she was positively bloated.
            "My wife,"
said the king.
            And the young woman
bowed to them.
            Togura was relived.
            "Where is