| Swift Fantasy Novelet of a Dreamer and His Dream |
By EDMOND HAMILTON |
But Brusul, the squat warrior in blue leather beside him, and little Zoor, the wizened third member of the trio, looked uneasily.
"We've no business meddling with the drylanders!" accused brawny Brusul loudly. "Your father the king said we were to scout only as far west as the Dragal Mountains. We've done that f and haven't found any sign of the cursed Bunts in them. Our business is to ride back to Jotan now and report."
"Why, what are you afraid of?" demanded Khal Kan scoffingly. "We're wearing nondescript leather and weapons—we can pass ourselves off to the drylanders as mercenaries from Kaubos."
"Why should we go bothering the damned desert-folk at all?" Brusul demanded violently. "They've got nothing we want."
Little Zoor broke into sniggering laughter. His wizened, frog-like face was creased by wrinkles of mirth.
