Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 52 — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION MUNSON AWOKE FROM A troubled sleep. The golden morning sunlight of Manyh was pouring into the room through the open door. He rose from the divan and walked through to Rodell’s room. It was empty. He examined the others one by one and finally realised that he was alone in the house. He washed and shaved in the primitive bathroom and ate a light breakfast of fruit which he found in the kitchen. After a moment of indeci- sion he donned his cloak and walked swiftly out into the grounds of the palace. Turn- ing his back on the magnifi- cent building, he headed in the direction of a high wall which © was visible above the trees about half a mile away. On his way he encountered several noblemen, apparently out for their morning stroll. They greeted him cordially, but fortunately showed no in- clination to linger. Munson reached the wall and followed its curve until he reached a gate. The guard on duty sprang to a salute as he passed through into the cobbled streets of the city. He found himself in an cpen-air market. The jostling crowd of Manyhian workers made way for him deferen- 80 tially after a glance at his nobleman’s attire. Drably clothed, sleepy-faced Many- hians offered for sale insect smothered meat and wizened fruits. Munson recalled the sumptuous banquet of the previous night. He approached a large Manyhian who stood by a stall laden with blue tinged meat. The butcher laid down his bloodstained cleaver and bowed. “Greetings, Lord. Can the unworthy Chonprey be of service to the Khuru’s chosen ?”’ “Continue with your work, Chonprey,” said Munson. “I merely wish to speak to you.”’ The butcher hesitated for a moment, his eyes widening. Munson wondered -if his breach of custom in address- ing acommon labourer in this manner was entirely wise, but it was achance he had to take. “As the Lord wishes,” said Chonprey, picking up a shining knife and beginning to slice a hunk of fly-blown meat. ““Tell me, Chonprey, what happens to the choicest cuts of your beef?” said Munson, shrewdly. The butcher’s left eyebrow flickered momentarily. He glanced at Munson warily. “The Lord is mocking his comicloooks.com