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Henceforward Brons was known as 'The Rich Fisher. It is noteworthy, however, that in the Perceval romance, ascribed to Borron, the title is as a rule, Roi Pescheur, not Riche Pescheur.
The Brons and the Neeblings had been the true antiquarians of the world. And they had taken centuries to gather their collection. A dinosaur skeleton stared at them. The salvaged carved prow of a galleon leaned against a gaping whale's jaw. A model of the first atomic pile supported a score of leaning spears, but the feathers and artwork on those spears were now stains and shreds.
Ahead of us is Grim Hagen and the Old Ship. Maya is with him. So are at least a hundred of the white-skinned captains from the planet we just left. Also, a dozen Brons. Maybe more, but not many. What we saw at the council that day when Rama defied Grim Hagen was just a sample of what was to follow. The people were bled white. Graft, corruption, and patronage had taken its toll.
Higher up, where the water had not reached, the machines had been stored along with other treasures. But Opal's best had been water-logged. And the trip that Odin had made with Wolden into the tunnel. That was the most heart-breaking of all. The Brons and the Neeblings had saved the treasures from the warring civilizations of the world above. The statues could be preserved.
Last Monday the house on the corner of Jay street was burned down to the ground and right down by Mrs. brons house there is a little child all alone and there is a bad man sleeping in the seller, but we have a wise old monkey in the coal ben so the parents are thankful that they don't have to pay any reward.
The families of Brons that survived were now building their houses above ground although the Lorens had generously offered them quarters below the city. The Brons wanted no more of caves or tunnels. They preferred to live up there on this world's surface and take their chances with frost and flood. Opal had been beautiful and wonderful.
Ato ordered "Battle-Stations" and sirens sounded all over the ship. But the circling host made no offer to attack. Odin turned the receiver up to its highest point, and speaking brokenly in the language of the Brons a voice came through. "Men of the strange ship. Men of the strange ship " "Yes," Odin answered. "Good. You hear me. We are those who have been driven out of the city.
A hill-billy band was playing, and a comic was singing: "So I kissed her little sister and forgot my Clementine." He turned off the radio with a curse and finally got to sleep, and dreamed of star spaces and emerald worlds ruled by beautiful Brons girls who looked like Maya or maybe a bit like Nea. Until the worlds streaked across the dark sky like comets.
Some of the Brons were older and wanted to rest. But injustice couldn't stop until the last tear had washed away the last drop of blood. A few of the Brons and most of the slaves revolted. They won, of course. Grim Hagen should have known the result. He and his men were in flight when they found you and took Maya. They gathered at the Old Ship and took off.
How many graves throughout those nine planets were dedicated to the conquerors? Only once had he seen one of them mistreated. That was at a dinner the night before. The banquet hall had been a combination of medieval, modern, and Brons' splendor. The dishes, the food, and the music had been superb. But a fair-skinned girl had spilled a few drops of wine when she was serving Grim Hagen.
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