CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Urchyn McAvi was awakened from slumber by the ringing of his comlink. Coming to his senses immediately, he unhooked the device from his belt and spoke into it. “What?”
The voice on the other end was thick and deep: Stranger’s voice. “This is the Steef. I’m in.”
McAvi smiled. “Good. I’ll meet you at the clearing immediately.”
* * *
Cloud stumbled along in the wilderness of No-Muds-Land, alone and tired from his daring escape.
Escape, he called it? No, it was more a desertion from duty than escape. Or was he really being loyal to the higher authorities by what he was doing? No, that didn’t sound quite right.
But what sounded better – that he was a coward, running away from the perils of Lord Fragg’s camp, which was what he really was? That didn’t make him feel any better, and he needed to be in high spirits to complete the mission with which he had tasked himself.
“How…could Lord Fragg…even think of doing…such a thing?” he wheezed. “Murdering the king?”
He had a hard time convincing himself that was what he had really heard. He’d been wandering up to the Glukkon’s tent earlier that morning, trying to work up his courage to apologize for his exaggerated fireside stories, but before being allowed entrance, he’d accidentally overheard Fragg talking to one of the Sligs about overthrowing King Glok, and being the heads of the Glukkon nation.
How could Fragg do that? Why? Cloud didn’t know these answers, but his little Slig brain had figured out this was not only his best chance to get away from Abe’s maniac attacks, but also a way to win favor with King Glok when he warned the Glukkon king of Fragg’s treachery.
The Slig shook his head, and kept running. He had to warn Glok in time…or he’d probably get caught, either by Fragg or Abe, and destroyed either way.
* * *
|