Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 50 — page 85: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION big, swarthy man. “What tribe is this?” “Tribe?” The man looked furtively at the young king. “We live here,” he muttered. “We have always lived here.” He licked his lips as he stared at the armed men. ‘‘What do you want with us?” “There is a great treasure here,’ said the old man excitedly. “Where. . .” “We need food,” snapped Kalin, and glared at the Reader. ‘You have food?” Nee Sasa the man eagerly. ““There is much meat here.” “We will eat,” said Kalin, and turned to whisper orders to his men. Curiously the old Reader watched while the strangers prepared the food. The animals they rapidly cleaned were small, with long thin tails and sharp snouts. He swallowed as he recognised them as rats, then sniffed hunerily at the odour of roasting meat. Rats were not a normal part of the village 84 diet, but sensible men eat anything, and the Reader was hungry. Slowly he moved towards the fire, sniffing at the delicious odour, then cried out in horror at what he saw. A woman was throwing books on the fire. He snatched at them, singe- ing his fingers and burning his hands as he beat out the flames. ‘The woman snarled at him, trying to take them back, and he thrust at her, calling to Kalin as_ she grabbed at the precious volumes. “Look! The treasure! The Trader did not lie.” “Are they of use?” The young king stared at the half- ruined books. “Do they tell of wounds?” “I don’t know.” The old man peered at them in the light of the dying sun, frown- ing at the unusual black lettering and tiny pictures. His lips moved as he tried to force his tongue to pronounce the unfamiliar words then, sadly, he admitted defeat. “I conmmcloooks.comn