Santiago: A Myth of the Far Future Read Free Page A

I’ll just have to explain
the ground rules to him,” said Giles Sans Pitié.
    “I wish you luck.”
    “Interested in throwing in with me
until we catch up with the Angel?”
    “I work alone,” said Cain.
    “Just as well,” said Giles Sans
Pitié, suddenly remembering his rum and taking a long swallow of it. “Where did
you hear about him?”
    “In the Meritonia system.”
    “I think I’ll head out that way
later this week,” said Giles Sans Pitié, rising to his feet. “It’s been an
interesting conversation, Cain.”
    “Thanks for the rum,” said Cain
wryly, staring at the empty bottle.
    “Any time,” laughed his companion.
“And you will make an effort to keep out of the
Praeteep system from now on, won’t you?” He flexed his steel fist. “I’d hate to
have to give you an object lesson about trespassing.”
    “Would you?”
    “Not really,” was the frank
answer.
    Cain made no reply, and a moment
later Giles San Pitié placed the empty bottle on the bar, left enough money to
cover another one he ordered for Cain, promised Gentry he’d be back to sample
some nonalcoholic wares later in the evening, and walked out into the hot,
humid night air of Moritat in search of some dinner.
    Gentry finished serving the girl
with the melancholy eyes, then brought the bottle over to Cain’s table.
    “What is it?” asked Cain, staring
at the clear liquid.
    “Something they brew out Altair
way,” replied the old man. “Tastes kind of like gin.”
    “I don’t like gin.”
    “I know,” replied Gentry with a
chuckle. “That’s why I’m just dead certain you’re gonna invite me to sit down
with you and help you drink it.”
    Cain sighed. “Have a seat, old
man.”
    “Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”
He lowered himself carefully to a chair, uncorked the bottle, and took a
swallow. “Good stuff, if I say so myself.”
    “You could save a hell of a lot of
money by not supplying glasses,” remarked Cain. “Nobody around here seems to
use them.”
    “Savin’ money ain’t one of my
problems,” replied Gentry. “And from what I hear, makin’ it ain’t one of
yours.”
    Cain said nothing, and the old man
took another swallow and continued speaking.
    “Did old Giles Without Pity warn
you off the Praeteep system?” he asked.
    Cain nodded.
    “Gonna pay him any heed?”
    “Until the next time I have
business there,” replied Cain.
    The old man laughed. “Good for
you, Songbird! Old Steelfist is gettin’ a little big for his britches these
days.”
    “I’m getting tired of telling you
what my name is,” said Cain irritably.
    “If you didn’t want to be a
legend, you shouldn’t have come out here. Two hundred years from now that’s the
only name people’ll know you by.”
    “Two hundred years from now I
won’t have to listen to them.”
    “Besides,” continued Gentry,
“Songbird ain’t on any Wanted posters. I seen Sebastian Cain on a flock of
‘em.”
    “That was a long time ago.”
    “Don’t go gettin’ defensive about
it,” chuckled the old man. “I seen posters on just about all you bounty hunters
at one time or another. Ain’t no skin off my ass. Hell, if Santiago himself
walked in the door and asked for one of my sportin’ gals, I’d trot him out the
prettiest one I’ve got.”
    “For all you know, he already
has,” remarked Cain.
    “Not a chance,” said Gentry. “He
ain’t that hard to spot.”
    “Eleven feet three inches, with
orange hair?” asked Cain with an amused smile.
    “You start huntin’ for a man who
looks like that and you’re going to be out here a
long, long time.”
    “What do you think he looks like?”
    The old man took a small swallow
from the bottle.
    “Don’t know,” he admitted. “Do
know one thing, though. Know he’s got a scar shaped like this”—he traced a
crooked S on the table—”on the back of his right hand.”
    “Sure he does.”
    “Truth!” said the old man
vigorously. “I know a man who saw