The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第10部分

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'What's　the　second？'　asked　Aemos。
'The　second？'
'The　second　mission？'
I　looked　at　them　all。　'We　all　know　how　serious　the　Cadian　matter　is。　But　I　made　a　vow　to　Gideon。　I　want　to　find　out　what　was　behind
the　outrage　here。　I　want　to　find　it；　hunt　it　out　and　punish　it。'
You　know；　it's　funny　how　things　turn　out。
IT　WAS　LATE；　and　we　were　devouring　a　splendid　meal　Jarat　had　prepared　for　us。　Nayl　was　telling　a　devastatingly　crude　joke　to　Aemos；
Medea　and　Bequin　and　I　were　talking　over　the　rearrangement　of　the　Distaff　and　the　missions　ahead。
I　think　she　was　feeling　excited。　Like　me；　she'd　been　taking　a　back　seat　for　too　long。
Kircher　came　up　the　terrace；　entering　the　filmy　green　light。
'Sir；　you　have　a　visitor。'
'At　this　hour；　who？'
'He　says　his　name　is　Inshabel；　sir。　Interrogator　Nathun　Inshabel。'
Inshabel　was　waiting　for　me　in　the　library。
'Interrogator。　Has　my　staff　offered　you　refreshment？'
'None　needed；　sir。'
'Very　well…　so　to　what　do　I　owe　this　visit？'
Inshabel；　no　more　than　twenty…five；　pushed　his　thick　blond　hair　out　of　his　eyes　and　looked　at　me　fiercely。　'I…　I　am　masterless。　Roban
is　dead…'
'God…Emperor　rest　him。　He　will　be　missed。'
'Sir；　do　you　ever　think　what　it　would　be　like　if　you　died？'
The　notion　stopped　me　in　my　tracks。　I　had；　in　all　honesty；　never　considered　it。
'No；　Inshabel。　I　haven't。'
'It's　a　terrible　thing；　sir。　As　Roban's　senior　acolyte　it　falls　to　me　to　disburse　his　staff；　his　fortune；　his　knowledge。　I'm　left　to　tidy　up；　as　it
were。　I　have　to　make　sense　of　Roban's　estate。'
'You　will　not　fail　in　that　duty；　interrogator；　of　that　I'm　sure。'
He　smiled　weakly。　'Thank　you；　sir。　I　had…　I　had　thought　to　come　to　you；　and　beg　you　to　take　me　on。　I　so　very　much　want　to　be　an
inquisitor。　My　master　is　dead；　and　I　know　that　your　own…　your　own　interrogator　is…'
'Indeed。　I　choose　my　own　staff；　of　course。　I—'
'Inquisitor　Eisenhorn。　Begging　you　to　take　me　on　as　a　driftwood　student　was　not　why　I　came　here。　As　I　said；　I　had　to　close　up　Roban's
estate。　That　meant　filing　and　authorising　the　pathologica　statement　of　his　death。　Inquisitor　Roban　was　killed　by　a　cargo　servitor
manipulated　by　a　rogue　psyker。'
'Yes？'
'So　to　complete　the　papers；　I　had　to　review　the　death　notice　of　Esarhaddon　so　as　to　establish　causal　motive。'
'That　is　the　procedure；'　I　admitted。
'The　statement　was　very　brief。　Esarhadon's　corpse　was　burnt　from　the　calves　upwards　and　utterly　immolated。　As　in　the　incidents　of
spontaneous　human　combustion；　the　relics　left　by　the　plasma　weapon　were　little　more　than　the　flesh　and　bones　of　the　feet　and　ankles。
Just　bare　vestiges。'
'And？'
'There　was　no　Malleus　brand　on　the　ankle　flesh。'
'It…　What…？'
'I　don't　know　who　Inquisitor　Lyko　burned　on　the　lawns　of　the　Lange　house…　but　it　wasn't　the　heretic　Esarhaddon。'

NINE
EECHAN；　SIX　WEEKS　LATER。
A　WORD　WITH　THE　PHANT。
KNIVES　IN　THE　NIGHT。
THE　BICEPHALIC　MINDER　in　the　squalid　doorway　of　the　twist　bar　regarded　us　with　one　of　his　lice…ridden　heads；　while　the　other　glazed
out；　smoking　an　obscura　pipe。
'Not　your　place；　not　your　kind。　Get　on。'
The　sap　rain　was　falling　heavily　on　our　heads　through　the　rotten　awning；　and　I　had　little　wish　to　stand　in　it　any　longer。　I　nodded　a
sidelong　glance　to　my　companion；　who　tugged　back　his　hood　and　showed　the　minder　the　cluster　of　malformed；　winking　eyes　that
mottled　his　cheek　and　ran　down　his　pallid　throat。　I　raised　my　own　damp　cloak　and　revealed　the　knot　of　stunted　tentacles　that　sprouted
from　an　extra　sleeve　slit　under　my　right　armpit。
The　minder　got　off　his　stool；　one　head　nodding　dozily。　He　was　big；　broad　and　tall　as　an　ogryn；　and　his　greasy　skin　was　busy　with
tattoos。
'Hnh…'　he　muttered；　limping　around　us　as　he　sized　us　up。　'Maybe　then。　You　didn't　smell　like　twists。　Okay…'
We　went　inside；　down　a　few　dark　steps　into　a　nocturnal　club　room　that　was　fogged　with　obscura　smoke　and　pulsing　with　a　brand　of
harsh；　discordant　music　called　''pound''。　Panes　of　red　glass　had　been　put　over　the　lights　of　the　lanterns　and　the　place　was　a　hellish
swamp；　like　the　damnation　paintings　of　that　insane　genius　Omarmettia。
Mal…forms；　deforms；　halfbreeds　and　underscum　huddled　or　gambled　or　drank　or　danced。　On　a　raised　stage；　a　naked；　heavy…breasted；
eyeless　girl　with　a　grinning　mouth　where　her　navel　should　have　been　gyrated　to　the　pound　beat。
We　reached　the　bar；　a　soiled　curve　of　hardwood　under　a　series　of　hard　white　lights。　The　barkeep　was　a　bloated　thing　with　bloodshot
eyes　and　a　black　snake　tongue　that　flickered　between　his　wet；　slit　mouth　and　rotting　teeth。
'Hey；　twist。　What　will　it　be？'
'Two　of　those；'　I　said；　pointing　to　clear　grain…alcohol　shots　that　a　waitress　was　carrying　past　on　a　tray。　She　would　have　been　beautiful
except　for　the　yellow　quills　stippling　her　skin。
Twists。　We　were　all　twists　here。　''Mutant''　is　a　dirty　word　if　you're　a　mutant。　They　delight　in　referring　to　themselves　by　the　Imperium's
glibbest　and　most　detrimental　slang；　as　a　badge　of　honour。　It's　a　pride　thing；　a　common　habit　with　any　underclass。　Non…telepaths　do　it
when　they　call　themselves　''blunts''。　The　tall；　slender　people　of　low…grav　Sylvan　do　it　when　they　call　themselves　''sticks''。　A　slur's　not　a
slur　if　you　use　it　on　yourself。
Labour　laws　on　Eechan　permit　twists　to　work　as　indentured　labourers　in　the　industrial　mill…farms　and　the　sap　distilleries；　provided　they
abide　by　the　local　regime　and　keep　themselves　to　the　licensed　shanty　towns　huddled　in　the　skirts　of　the　bad　end　of　Eechan　mainhive。
The　barkeep　slapped　two　heavy　shotglasses　down　on　the　counter　and　filled　them　to　the　brim　　a　spouted　flask。
I　tossed　a　couple　of　coins　down　and　reached　for　my　drink。
The　bloodshot　eyes　leered　at　me。
'What's　this？　Perial　coins？　Come　now；　twist；　you　know　we　ain't　allowed　to　trade　in　those。'
I　paused。　A　glance　down　the　counter　showed　me　that　the　rest　of　the　clientele　were　paying　in　mill…authorised　coupons　or　nuggets　of
base　metal。　And　that　they　were　all　staring　and　scowling　at　us。　A　basic　mistake；　right　off　the　bat。
My　companion　leaned　forward　and　sipped　his　drink。　'Don't　get　fret　with　two　thirsty　twists　who's　happened　to　have　lucked　into　a　good
black　score；　eh？'
The　barkeep　smiled　and　his　black　tongue　flickered。　He　scooped　up　the　coins。　'Ain't　no　fret；　twist。　You　earn　'em；　I'll　take　'em。　Just
sayin'　you　might　not　want　to　go　flashing　'em；　s'all。'
We　took　our　drinks　away　from　the　bar；　looking　for　a　table。　It　had　taken　six　weeks　to　reach　Eechan；　and　I　was　impatient　for　a　lead。
The　beat　changed。　Another　pound　number　began　pumping　through　the　underfloor　speakers；　which　to　my　untutored　ears　was　simply　a
variation　in　auditory　assault。　But　the　crowd　clapped　and　roared　approval。　The　naked　girl　with　the　grinning　stomach　began　rotating　her
hips　the　other　way。
'I　have　a　feeling　I　should　be　leaving　this　to　you；'　I　whispered　to　my　companion。
'You're　doing　fine。'
'〃Don't　get　fret；　twist…〃。　for　God…Emperor's　sake…　where　did　you　learn　to　talk　like　that？'
'You　never　hung　with　twists？'
'Not　like　this…'
'So　I'm　guessin'　you　don't　s'love　that　genejack　pound　beat；　twist？'
'Stop　it　or　I'll　shoot　you。'
Harlon　Nayl　grinned　and　blinked　with　all　his　sixteen　eyes　in　mock　offence。
'Sup　up；　twist。　If　that　ain't　Phant　Mastik；　I'll　poke　my　eyes　out。'
'Oh；　let　me；'　I　hissed；　and　slugged　back　my　shot。　'Raise　'em　and　sink　'em　and　let's　have　another！'　I　grimaced　to　myself　as　the　burning
spirit　scalded　down　my　oesophagus；　and　then　scooped　two　more　drinks　from　the　tray　of　the　porcupine　girl　as　she　sashayed　past。
Phant　Mastik　sat　with　his　cronies　in　a　side　booth。　Generations　of　rad…storm　mutation　had　made　him　an　obese　thing　with　wrinkled　flesh
and　enlarged　features。　His　ears　were　frayed　fan…like　swathes　of　veiny　skin　and　his　nose　was　a　drooping　proboscis。　An　incongruous　tuft
of　thick　red　hair　decorated　his　neanderthal　brow。
His　eyes　were　deep…set　and　black。
And　sad；　I　thought。　Tremendously　sad。

He　was　drinking　from　a　big　tankard　by　snorting　the　alcohol　up　through　his　dangling　nose。　His　mouth；　distorted　by　tusk…like　jags　of
tooth；　was　useless。　A　twist　whore；　with　an　unnecessary　number　of　arms；　was　sipping　her　drink；　smoking　an　obscura　stick；　retouching
her　makeup　and　doing　something　to　Phant　under　the　table　that　he　was　clearly　enjoying。
We　approached。
Phant's　minders　got　up　immediately　to　block　us。　A　homed　brute　and　a　twist　whose　entire　head　was　a　wrinkled　skin　hood　for　an
outsized　eye。　They　both　reached　into　their　robes。
'How　you　tonight；　twists？'　puffed　Horn…brute。
'We　fine。　No　fret；　just　s'gotta　talk　to　the　Phant；'　said　Nayl。
'Ain't　not　gonna　happen；'　said　Big…eye；　his　voice　muffled　by　his　clothing。　God…Emperor　knew　where　his　mouth　was。
'I　s'think　so；　when　we　have　us　such　a　scalding　black　score；　him　to　enjoy。'　Nayl　didn't　shrink　back。
＋＋Let　them　through＋＋　Phant　said；　his　voice　conveyed　by　an　augmetic　carry…sound　unit。　A　vox…implant。　Few　twists　had　the　money　for
that。　Phant　was　certainly　a　player。
The　minders　stepped　aside　and　allowed　us　into　the　booth。　We　sat。
＋＋Go　on＋＋
'Twist；　I　s'tell　ya；　we　be　in　the　market　for　section…alpha　brainjobs。　We　s'hear　you　got　one　for　the　begging。'
＋＋Hear？　Where？＋＋
'Round　and　around；'　said　Nayl。
＋＋Uh　huh。　And　you　are？＋＋
'Just　two　twists　s'gonna　earn　us　a　deal；'　I　said。
＋＋That　right？＋＋
We　sat　in　silence　for　a　moment　as　Phant　called　for　more　drinks。　The　girl　was　now　combing　and　fixing　her　hair　and　doing　her　make…up。
One　of　her　many　hands　was　on　my　knee　under　the　table。
She　winked　at　me。
With　an　eye　growing　from　the　end　of　her　tongue。
＋＋What　I　got；　ain't　no　section…alpha；　twists。　S'section…alpha…plus＋＋
'That　is　s'why　we　came　to　you；　Phant！　S'why！　No　upper　limit　for　our　buy！'
＋＋How　U　gonna　pay？＋＋
Nayl　dropped　one　of　the　ingots　onto　the　table。
'Pure　mellow…yellow。　And　we　got　the　bars。　Much　as　it　takes。　So…？　S'when…where？'
＋＋I　gotta　talk　to　some　people＋＋
'Kay。'
＋＋Where　can　I　reach　U？＋＋
'The　Twist　and　Sleep。'
＋＋You　sleep　tight。　Maybe　I　call　you＋＋
THE　AUDIENCE　WAS　over。　We　took　a　table　of　our　own　near　the　raised　stage　and　stayed　for　a　couple　more　rounds；　making　a　show　of
appreciating　the　indecent　writhings　of　the　girl　with　the　belly　mouth。
After　an　hour　or　so；　we　saw　Phant　and　his　retinue　leave　by　a　side　door。　'Let's　go；'　I　said。　We　finished　our　drinks　and　rose。　Nayl　gave
porcupine　girl　a　handful　of　coins　and　patted　her　bottom。　Her　quills　bristled；　but　she　smiled。
The　minder　didn't　spare　us　a　look　with　either　of　his　heads　as　we　left。　Out　of　sight；　round　the　corner　of　the　dreary　barstoop；　I　handed
Nayl　one　of　a　pair　of　brass　stimm…injectors　and　we　detoxed　quickly　to　rid　our　bodies　of　the　alcohol　dulling　our　systems。
It　was　the　dead　of　night；　but　there　was　little　darkness。　The　great　curve　of　Eechan's　ring　systems　glowed　with　reflecting　sunlight　and
shone　like　bands　of　diamond…crusted　platinum。
The　main　street　of　the　shanty　was　a　rutted；　water…logged　morass；　and　flaking　boardwalk　pavements　edged　the　rows　of　slumping；　dingy
buildings。　Glowing　signs　and　the　few　street　lamps　reflected　in　the　street　puddles。
Beyond　the　shanty；　to　the　west；　the　alpine　slopes　of　the　mainhive　rose　against　the　stars；　like　a　dark　mountain　of　trash　decorated　with　a
million　little　lights。　To　the　east　were　the　stacked；　grubby　mushrooms　of　the　mill…farms　and　the　distilleries；　venting　brown　steam　and
yellow　pollutants　into　the　wind。
To　the　south；　in　the　verdant　farm　lands；　plains　of　thick；　rubbery　growth；　we　could　see　the　running　lights　of　several　vast　harvesters。
They　were　segmented　juggernauts；　beetle…like　machines　the　size　of　small　starships；　chewing　up　the　greenbelt　with　massive　reaping
mandibles　and　digesting　it　through　vast　interior　vats　and　worklines。　Flues　lined　their　backs　like　spines　and　spewed　moisture　waste　and
atomised　sap　up　high　into　the　atmosphere；　where　it　drifted　and　fell　again　like　rain。　Everything　in　the　twist　shanty　was　sticky　with　sapfall。
The　rain　was　tacky　and　thick　like　syrup。　The　street　puddles　were　viscous。　Downpipes　glugged　and　throbbed　rather　than　pouring。
Everywhere；　there　was　a　stench　of　decomposing　plantfibre　and　liquefied　cellulose。
'Do　you　think　he　took　the　bait？'　I　asked。
Nayl　nodded。　'You　could　see　he　was　interested。　Gold's　rare　on　Eechan。　His　eyes　lit　when　I　showed　him　that　ingot。'
'He'll　want　to　check　us；　though。'
'Of　course。　He's　a　businessman。'

We　walked　along　the　street；　hoods　raised　against　the　sticky　rain。　There　were　a　few　mutants　around；　all　of　them　dressed　in　rancid
tatters。　They　shambled　along；　lurked　in　doorways　around　covered　braziers；　or　shared　obscura　bottle…pipes　out　of　the　rain　in　dim
breezeways。
A　squirt　of　sirens　warbled　down　the　main　street　and　Nayl　pulled　me　into　an　alley…end。　A　black　armoured　land　speeder　with　blazing
grilled　lamps　crept　past。
I　saw　the　crest　motif　of　the　mainhive　arbites　on　the　side　and　an　armoured　officer　sat　in　the　top　hatch　manipulating　a　spotlight。
The　beam　played　across　us　and　passed　along。　Another　flute　of　siren…noise　sounded　and　we　heard　a　vox…amplified　voice　demand；
'Idents　and　papers；　you　five。　Now！'
Moaning　and　grumbling；　a　pack　of　twists　moved　out　into　the　street；　lit　by　the　spot…beam；　as　the　officers　dismounted　to　shake　them
down　and　run　their　gene…prints　through　the　system。
Something　we　couldn't　afford　to　let　happen。　Not　if　we　wanted　to　maintain　our　position　as　anonymous　mutants。　One　flash　of　my
credentials　would　speed　us　past　any　arbites　red…tape。　But　it　might　also　alert　Lyko。
I'd　insisted　on　full　concealment　for　the　mission。　No　one　knew　we　were　here；　officially。　Aemos　had　done　some　surreptitious　checking；
and　there　was　no　official　trace　of　Lyko　either。　But　that　was　to　be　expected；　and　there　was　no　telling　how　many　mainhive　officials　he
might　have　back…handed　to　alert　him　of　any　Inquisitorial　presence。
Nayl　and　I　turned　west　at　the　next　junction；　and　followed　the　maze　of　alleys　and　breezeways　between　the　rents　and　mill…habs　to　reach
the　Twist　and　Sleep　by　a　circuitous　route　that　would　keep　us　off　the　main　thoroughfares　and　away　from　arbites　patrols。
And；　as　it　turned　out；　bring　us　right　into　trouble。
IT　DIDN'T　LOOK　like　trouble　at　first。　A　short；　flat…browed　runt　in　rags　stepped　into　our　path；　grinning　like　a　salesman。　He　held　his　hands
open；　as　if　he　was　going　to　curtsy。　Twists；　my　twists；　my　friends…　spare　a　few　'perials　for　a　poor　badgene　down　on　his　luck；'　I　heard
Nayl　begin　to　say；　'Not　tonight；　twist。　S'get　you　to　one　side。'　But　I　had　already　tensed。　How　had　this　scabscum　known　to　ask　for
Imperial　coins　if　he　hadn't　seen　us　at　the　bar　and　followed　us　on　purpose？
His　accomplices　came　out　of　the　gloom　and　sap…rain　behind　us。
I　rammed　the　word　Evade！　hard　into　Nayl's　mind　with　a　'pathic　surge　and　dropped。
A　massive；　spiked　weapon　sailed　through　the　space　our　heads　had　just　been　occupying　and　connected　with　nothing　but　air。
The　rant　who　had　ost　obscene　series　of　curses　I　have　ever；　ever　heard　and　dived　on　me。　He　had　a　doubleheaded
dagger　with　a　nurled　hand…guard。
I　caught　his　upflung　wrist　as　he　made　to　gouge　at　me；　broke　his　elbow　and　kicked　him　through　a　nearby　fence　while　he　was　still
screaming　in　pain。
'Boss！　Move！'　I　heard　Nayl　sing　out　and　I　rolled　hard　aside　in　the　mud　as　the　spiked　weapon　slammed　down　into　the　mire。
It　was　a　thick　length　of　timber　with　dozens　of　nails　and　knife　blades　hammered　through　it。
The　friendly　end　of　it　was　held　by　two　amazingly　large　paws。　The　paws　belonged　to　a　hulk；　a　two　hundred　kilo　monster　covered　with
blistered　fish…scales　and　bony　scutes。　It　wore　only　a　pair　of　ragged　blue　trousers　held　in　place　around　its　midriff；　almost　comically；　by
a　pair　of　red　braces。
It　swung　the　spike…post　at　me　again；　and　I　had　to　dive　and　shoulder…roll　to　escape　it。
Nayl　was　going　toe…to…toe　with　two　others：　a　snouted　female　in　black　leather　whose　mouth　and　nose　were　hideously　combined　into
one　drooling；　snarling　organ；　and　a　tall；　thin　male　with　a　face　peculiarly　distorted　by　bone　and　gristle。
The　female　had　a　reaping　sickle　in　each　hand；　and　the　tall　male　was　armed　with　a　mace　made　out　of　a　reinforced　strut　toothed　with　the
rusting　blades　of　two　wood　saws。
Nayl　had　drawn　his　serrated　shortsword　and　duelling　knife　and　was　fending　off　thrusts　and　strikes　from　both　of　them。
A　power　sword；　a　boltgun；　a　lascarbine…　they　would　all　have　finished　this　unnecessary　encounter　fast　enough。　But　we　had　agreed　to
carry　nothing　that　would　mark　us　out　from　the　twist　population。　Tech…levels　were　low　in　the　shanty。　A　plasma　gun　might　have　ended
this　quickly；　but　stories　would　have　got　round。
The　scaly　giant　was　on　me　again；　and　I　fell　through　the　rotting　flakboard　of　a　fence　in　my　efforts　to　evade　his　swing。　I　found　myself
lying　amid　the　debris　in　the　back　yard　of　one　of　the　loathsome　hab…rents。　A　light　went　on　in　an　upper　window　and　abuse；　stones　and
the　contents　of　a　chamber　pot　were　hurled　at　me。
The　giant　came　on；　swinging　his　club　from　side　to　side。　The　nails　and　blades　were　darkly　caked　with　dried　blood。
He　backed　me　towards　the　rear　of　the　rent　dwelling　and　made　to　swing　again。
No！　I　commanded；　using　the　will。　He　stopped　dead。　The　rain　of　abuse　and　excrement　from　above　stopped　too。
It　would　take　him　a　moment　to　reconfigure　his　mind　and　find　his　anger　again。　I　moved　right　at　him；　punching　a　knuckle…curved　fist　at
the　place　where　his　nose　should　have　been。　There　was　a　crack　of　bone　and　a　spray　of　blood。
The　giant　went　down　hard　on　his　back；　his　nasal　bone　slammed　back　into　his　brain。
Nayl　seemed　to　be　enjoying　his　uneven　duel。　He　was　jeering　at　his　attackers；　deflecting　the　sickles　with　his　sword　and　blocking　the
strenuous　attacks　of　the　mace　with　his　knife。　I　saw　him　spin　and　belly…kick　the　male　away；　then　turn　to　give　the　ghastly；　snorting
female　his　full　attention。
But　more　figures　were　emerging　from　the　night。
Ugly；　abhuman　scum　dressed　in　rags。　Three；　four　of　them。

I　called　a　warning　out　to　Nayl　and　pulled　out　my　blackpowder　pistol。　It　　the　black　market　on
Front's　Planet；　but　even　so　I'd　dumbed　it　down　to　Eechan　tech　levels　by　replacing　the　engraved　furniture　with　a　shaped　piece　of
packet…wood。
The　flintlock　mechanism　was　in　good　order；　though。　It　cracked　loudly　with　a　fizz　and　a　flash；　the　recoil　punishing　my　wrist；　and　the
ball　went　point…blank　through　the　forehead　of　the　nearest　twist；　exploding　the　rear　of　his　cranium　in　a　surprisingly　messy　fountain。
But　it　was　a　one…shot　piece　and　there　was　no　time　for　reloading。
Two　of　the　remaining　outlaws　came　right　at　me；　the　other　turning　to　come　in　on　Nayl's　flank。
I　broke　the　teeth　of　the　first　one　to　reach　me　with　the　rounded　butt　of　the　pistol；　and　ducked　the　second's　poorly　judged　slice　with　a
rapier。
Backing　away；　I　drew　my　own　blade。　Also　a　rapier。　Shorter　by　a　good　ten　centimetres　than　my　opponent's　but　balanced　and　guarded
with　a　hand…net　of　articulated　metal　struts。
Our　blades　clashed。　He　was　good；　trained　to　his　skill　by　a　life　of　slaughter　in　the　underhive。　But　I…　I　had　me　on　my　side。
I　dazzled　him　with　the　ulsar　and　the　uin　ulsar；　and　then　drove　him　back　with　a　four…stroke　combination　of　pel　ighan　and　uin　pel　ihnarr
before　ripping　the　blade　out　of　his　dazed　fingers　with　a　swift　tahn　asaf　wyla。
Then　the　ewl　caer。　My　blade　transfixed　his　torso。　He　looked　confused　for　a　second　and　then　fell　down；　sliding　dead　off　my　blade。
His　broken…faced　accomplice；　blood　spilling　from　my　pistol　whipping；　flew　at　me　and　I　span；　decapitating　him　with　the　edge　of　my
blade。　The　Carthaens　believe　side…blade　work　is　lazy；