By Alan Burt Akers
The matter with being a undercover agent is you'll want to make buddies with the enemy. Dray Prescot, Earthman, who had turn into prince of Vallia, used to be the type of guy who continually stood through his associates. So in his quest to benefit the battle secrets and techniques of Hamal, empire of the aircraft-makers, Dray came across himself not just changing into comrade to a couple of its maximum warriors yet of championing the very lifetime of its cruelly appealing queen. even though Dray's devotion to his wonderful princess Delia by no means flagged, his challenge, and his lifestyles, used to be perilously balanced upon the razor-edged blades of loyalty as opposed to duty...
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Extra resources for Bladesman of Antares (Dray Prescot, Book 9)
If it's presentable, old man. ” “Of course not,” he said, revolted. “What do you take me for? She gave me two happy years, on and off, and I want to make an adequate return. ” “He's a small thing,” I said, holding up my thumb and fore-linger again. “Could he give her a perfect voice? For a time, anyway. ” Mortenson's suggestion sounded the gentlemanly thing to do. His ex-mistress sang cantatas at the local church, if that's the proper term. In those days I had quite an ear for music and would frequently go to these things (taking care to dodge the collection box, of course).
I said, and held out my hand for it, but he made no move to give it to me. “You'll want more copies,” he said. “No, I won't,” I said, looking over his shoulder. It was a remarkably clear photograph in brilliant color. Kevin O'Donnell was smiling, though I didn't remember such a smile at the time I snapped it. He seemed good-looking and cheerful, but I was rather indifferent to that. Perhaps a woman might observe more, or a man like my photographer friend — who, as it happened, did not have my firm grasp on masculinity — might do so.
Now when you tell a story, old man, the air of disbelief that descends upon the room is thick enough to cut with a chain saw, but it's not that way with me. There's nothing like a reputation for probity and an air of honest directness. His eyes glittered as I told him. He said could he arrange to give her something that I would ask for. “If it's presentable, old man. ” “Of course not,” he said, revolted. “What do you take me for? She gave me two happy years, on and off, and I want to make an adequate return.
Bladesman of Antares (Dray Prescot, Book 9) by Alan Burt Akers