3
ound of a contented snore arose from deep within the heap.
Max swung from the rope onto the ledge over the bar and seated himself. He sipped at his drink, which he had retained in his left hand, and slid the knife back into its spring-loaded sheath. "Fortunately for you," he said down at the pile of wreckage, "it is far too hellish out here to get involved in serious exertion." After another week at the outside the caravan would be clear of the desert, he thought, and then it was a straight shot across the plains to Drest Klaaver, where at last report Shaa was hiding out. He was looking forward to seeing Shaa again. If Shaa didn't try to kill him on sight, that is.
The bartender had reemerged from his hiding-place. "So what about the ruins?" Max called down.
"Ruins?" the man said, looking out at the room. "Whaddaya need more ruins, what you did here isn't enough for you?"
FOR A CHANGE, Max was not actually on the run, which is to say that he didn't think anyone in particular was after him. Of course, his perception (which happened to be wrong) did not materially change the situation. He did indeed have a pursuer, and later that night the pursuer caught up.
The large moon was up, too, along with some of the small fast ones. Max dangled his legs over the tailboard of the rear wagon, watching ground pass in the pale light. A large shaggy form loped around the wagon and hoisted itself next to him. "I still say you should have hacked him into little pieces," the shaggy hulk said. "If you could have waited for me, I would have hacked him into little pieces."
"All the time with you, Svin, it's fight, fight, fight, hack, hack, hack," Max said. "I'm not going to say your philosophy may not be superior, and it certainly has the virtue of simplicity, but by the same token -"
"It is the course of honor, the only true path for a warrior born," Svin said with a note of finality.
"That's fine as far as it goes," Max said, "but not all of us are warriors born. Some of us su