By Mick Farren
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Additional resources for The Song of Phaid the Gambler
Sample text
He had even witnessed two boohooms making love, a spectacle that caused him to quicken his pace, even though Ucko seemed inclined to linger and watch. Once in Ucko's nest, Phaid had managed only the smallest amount of shallow, disturbed sleep. Things constantly scurried and rustled. Somewhere nearby water dripped with a nerve-racking monotony. Ucko snored loudly and even the dog whimpered as it dreamt. In the early morning, although Phaid couldn't fathom how the boohoom knew it was morning in that sunless, underground world, Ucko led him back out of the labyrinth and set him on his way to the field where the crawlers turned around.
The city was dominated by the grey stone bulk of the old, domed fortress. It squatted on the highest of the city's five hills like some sinister, brooding toad, commanding a baleful view of all traffic on the river for many miles in either direction. Around the base of the dome were the black, gaping ports that once housed massively powerful banks of photon cannons. The stones of the dome itself were cracked, blackened and pitted where they had bubbled and melted under attack by awesome heat weapons.
Phaid slowly shook his head and moved towards the card table. He glanced down at the news-sheet. The pictures were blurry and the stories ranged between fanciful and wildly inaccurate. What passed for news in these provincial towns was rumour, gossip and tall tales that came in with the boats and caravans. Phaid crumpled the sheet and dropped it on the floor. The two boatmen were still playing their plodding, tab at a time game. Phaid smiled at the waitress. ' She smiled her thanks and got up. Phaid slipped briskly into the dealer's chair and pulled back his cuffs.