“Come on, Palfrey, you fambly! Hurry up with that junk!”
The poor Palfrey moved the heavy bag on his shoulder, gasped “Yes, Notor!” and tried with all his strength not to let it slip. Dagert went on with his chin held high and his left hand on the rapier grip, the familiar poise of the nobleman personified. I walked a step behind him, as befitted a cadade. We found an empty bedchamber, and I tried as best I could to clean the green lizard blood from my clothes. Now we were a nobleman and a captain of the guard, both known to the palace staff, and accompanied by a servant who carried some of their possessions.
Of course the bag with our possessions contained the bound and gagged Prince Ortyg of Tolindrin.
And so we marched unmolested through the royal palace of Prebaya. Which was most satisfying.
My main concern was that the new First Advisor M’Marmor could have spread the word around that there was a boorish bully creeping through the corridors, who had offended his sensitive Khibil feelings to the extreme. We learned that the second schrepim had been tracked down and peppered with crossbow bolts. This incident and the panic that it had triggered almost turned the palace into a madhouse, and apparently made sure that every word from M’Marmor was forgotten. In any case, we left the palace without anyone getting in our way.
The morning suns sent forth a misty, apple green and palely pink light. The rain that fell during the night had cleared the atmosphere, and the sweet Kregen air with its lavish scent was pervasive. Not even the smoke from the cooking fires for the first breakfast could pollute the air — at least not this morning. Throughout the city, thin columns of smoke rose up. There was a dead calm. We walked with our heads held high and our swords swung with our long strides. Oh yes, everything was in perfect order — admittedly, the poor Palfrey limped along carrying Prince Ortyg in the sack over his shoulder.
“Give it to me, dom,” I finally said. Palfrey handed me the sack gratefully. He straightened up, groaned and held onto his staff. “Ouch! I’m crippled. My spine is bent!”
“Stop whining, you big fambly!” Dagert snapped, without looking back. “Or I will bend your spine into a circle!”
Palfrey reminded me of our previous meetings with a grimace that meant something like: listen to the Notor, of course he does not seriously mean it. That is, probably not.
The early birds had already prepared the markets for the day in the dark murs before sunrise; soon the servants would make their purchases. In the short time between there were few people on the streets.
A guard division marched past at a crossroads, and we waited patiently until they were gone. They consisted entirely of mercenaries. When I had once asked why the local nobles hired only paktuns as bodyguards, they gave no good reasons, only half-hearted explanations. Apparently the nobles did not trust their people enough to protect them. This is a common, historical phenomenon. The army did take men from Caneldrin into the paktun regiments. Quensella, for example, paid for her protection and tried to take good men into service. Well, I had already seen one result of this practice, by Krun! She would not have dreamed of taking on one of those strong young lads who were born in Caneldrin, not to mention Prebaya. When I compared this with my efforts in Vallia, I became aware of the tragedy that lay therein.
The few organized revolutionary movements hid in the mountains. As far as their effectiveness was concerned, that had to be judged by what they had achieved during my stay in Prebaya. Namely, nothing.
All this speculation over the political and military situation in Caneldrin had not managed to divert my attention from my stomach. The morning fires sent their smoke into the sky, the smell of breakfast penetrated my nostrils, and I got very weak in the knees. By Vox! I was on the verge of starvation!
Still, I was determined to leave Prebaya immediately. Quensella’s paymaster had paid me, so a few gold coins jingled in my pocket.
“When will we finally stop for breakfast, Notor?” Palfrey asked sullenly and in a plaintive voice, but I went on resolutely with Ortyg over my shoulder, Dagert of Paylen a step ahead of me. Poor Palfrey, constantly grumbling, followed behind.
I gave Dagert a direction with a few words, and soon the lifterdrome came into view.
A boy came towards us on the road. A brown apron concealed bare legs, and on his tousled mop of hair he wore a large tray covered with a yellow cloth. Dagert stopped him. He lifted a corner of the cloth and sniffed. “By the potbelly and generous ladle of the master chef Ramdiz of the Recipes! I’m starving. Here, boy.” Dagert threw a copper coin into the air, the limber boy caught it. The noble gentleman took a spiky bread roll containing a mixture of various still steaming meats, and let the cloth fall again. Then he immediately began to eat with great gusto.
Palfrey said nothing, but he rolled his eyes heartbreakingly.
“Here, boy.” I gave him four copper pieces and took enough breakfast for me and Palfrey. By Mother Rushi of the Puddings and Cakes! The meat-stuffed buns tasted divine!
Then I remembered something. I held on to the boy, who was pleased to go home so early after an effortless sale, and bought yet another bread roll. The bag at my feet did not move. Ortyg could eat his breakfast later.
The bag was back in its place on my shoulder, and I held it with my left hand, pushed the bread and meat into my mouth with the right, and we were back to walking. Mind you, the magnificent diffs of Kregen who are equipped with more than the two arms of mere apims could buy breakfast, pay for it and eat it without having to put down the bag, by Krun!
At this early hour the lifterdrome was barely operating. We paid the exorbitant fees, checked out the flier and flew into the brightness of the Kregen morning.
I handed Dagert control and ordered Palfrey to free Ortyg from the bag. We took the gag off, and before the expected flood of words could come out of his mouth I stuffed the piece of bread between his teeth. He was forced to chew and swallow. We did not remove the shackles on his hands and feet. “Feed him bite by bite with breakfast, friend Palfrey, and then gag him again.”
“What course?” Dagert wanted to know.
“Oxonium.”
“Ah!” Dagert bent his head over the controls, then raised it again and looked at me. “Er — I do not think it particularly wise. Some people there will not be very pleased when they see me. You understand that, my dear fellow?” He made a gracious gesture, but refrained from stroking his black mustache. “At present, Oxonium is damned unhealthy for me. Damned unhealthy, by Krun!”
I had anticipated this. “Here.” I poured out the gold coins that Quensella’s paymaster had given me.
“Oh no. Oh no! The pay of a simple cadade is an insult to a gentleman of my rank. You understand that as well, right?”
“I will go to the capital. You will find a comfortable refuge for you and Palfrey. There you can wait for me until I have completed my affairs in Oxonium.” Then I added sharply: “When I return, there will be a lot of gold!”
“To Hanitcha the Harrower with it! What shall I do with you?” He looked forward, pulled the lever back slightly and slowed our climb. “You always have an answer for everything in advance. You are a simple paktun, but you know how to behave.” He shook his head and pushed the speed lever forward. We shot through the air.
What should I do with him and Palfrey? At the time, the bold idea to take him into my service had some merit. But now I saw all the dangers that were associated with it. This man knew no loyalty. He would make a hasty retreat when the danger to him from whoever stood in our way did not agree with him. Well, by Vox, he showed only common sense.
The problem was, I knew I could not rely on him. Oh yes, he was charming, morally depraved and courageous. And an out and out villain. If I put them in an inn in the country with the cadade gold and then did what I had to do, the problem might solve itself. If they were still there when I returned, well and good. If they had made off, the matter was likewise settled.
A pressing problem demanded immediate remedy. The couple of burs sleep that I had allowed myself before all the excitement had kept me upright until now, but the inevitable weariness was close.
“Will you wait in Caneldrin or Tolindrin?”
Without hesitation, Dagert chose Caneldrin. I nodded. That fit into my plans, by Krun!
I pondered on what might happen if I lay down and slept to the full, and came to the sobering conclusion that I’d prefer to do without it. Dagert of Paylen might get the idea that a prince would give him a greater reward than a rabid mercenary, whether a zhanpaktun or not. A dagger would slit my throat, my body would quickly go overboard and the last thing I would hear would be a fawning statement from Ortyg as his bonds were loosed. Oh yes, by Djan, a really pretty scenario that would take its course just because I had dozed off.
During the flight to Umrigg, an isolated village with an inn of satisfactory quality, which was mainly used for trysts and was known to Dagert, Palfrey and I carried on a sporadic conversation. He told me that his father had been a witness to how Donggi, the old Amak of Paylen, had beaten his young son Dagert to unconsciousness on the many evenings when he was dead drunk. Dagert’s mother had long before given up and then had the decency to die without fuss. Dagert’s childhood had been the whetstone that he had to thank for his sharpness as an adult.
Umrigg turned out to be one of those villages that would have adorned a postcard if it was on Earth. Very pretty. The picturesque houses and taverns and the famous inn had no surrounding wall. During times of war everyone would pack up his things and go to the nearest fortified town. I set Dagert down, took a meal myself, drank a gulp and left him behind with the patiently suffering Palfrey. If they were still there when I returned, well, then I would be obliged to consider my options.
As we raced towards Oxonium, Prince Ortyg became very subdued. I could sympathize with him. That’s what happens when one day you have tremendous power and the next you are tied up in a bag!
I took off the gag and counted on a flood of abuse. I was not disappointed. Anyway, as I freed him from the gag, it turned out that I had unwittingly done something rather fortuitous.
He spoke. He expressed himself eloquently. He threatened. He informed me that my days were numbered, that Tolindrin was doomed, and listed all those who were loyal to him. When I finally got to speak again, I told him that I did not intend to harm him. In his response, he described in detail everything that he wanted to do to me. When I gently pointed out to him that he was not in a position to make threats, he swallowed hard, turned bright red and his shoulders slumped.
“You’ll see, you blintz! C’Chermina was about to destroy the foolish Illusionist of Winlan. And at my urging she will release her terrible weapon on Tolindrin.” His knowledge made him giggle. I hoped that he did not lose his mind. “You’ll see! Wait until everything is destroyed!”
Trying to make him understand the impact of his plan by explaining to him what he was doing, turned out to be pointless. He had only one goal: Tolindrin’s throne and crown. When I mentioned that Caneldrin would take the power itself, he just laughed hysterically. Such an idea had no place in his head, his arrogance would not allow it. I sighed and left him in his bag and got everything ready to fly over the border at high altitude and at high speed.
We floated through the windless sky of Kregen. High and fast, a passing shadow between pale clouds, we crossed the border between Caneldrin and Tolindrin and then flew further into safety.
Shortly thereafter, I landed the lifter on a deserted plain next to a grove of trees where I could hide it. I made sure that the prince was securely bound and gagged in his sack, then I rolled myself in a blanket and fell asleep after I had thought my usual last, sweet thoughts.
As we flew on, rested, Prince Ortyg chose another tactic to try to scare me. He boasted of the huge armies that C’Chermina had in position. They would sweep through Tolindrin like a fire through a bone-dry forest. He complained bitterly about the lack of Chuliks. These excellent yellow-skinned fighters were all going south to their home islands. Let the devil take them.
I patiently explained to him the reason for the return of the Chuliks. “The Shanks!” I said, and I must admit that my voice sounded vicious even to my ears. “Those predators are tough, cunning and brave. They want to deprive us of Paz. And in order to achieve that goal, to kill and pillage. So we must stop them.”
He was none too impressed, but my fierceness made him flinch. “I do not believe they will attack the Chulik islands. They have suffered a defeat there before. They will pounce on Balintol — and that means Tolindrin. So do you understand now...?”
“When I am king, I will settle this matter.”
Well, I did not hit him. I tried to bring him to his senses, but the words bounced off the armor of his haughtiness, which had become even more impenetrable since his trip to Prebaya. To say nothing of his greed for Tolindrin’s throne. So I put him in the bag and I concentrated on getting the flier to Oxonium by the fastest route.
It had not even occurred to this hot-tempered, weasel faced prince that I could have killed him. What? A pitiful mercenary who had the audacity to murder a real prince? He had completely internalized the superiority which the scum of the world concedes to the kings and the noble houses — and of course I, Dray Prescot, was also scum. That he had not lost courage while in the sack was understandable in the circumstances; he had not had time to become aware of what was actually happening to him.
As might be expected, he had offered to pay me, to bribe me, and he even made the offer to take me into his service. This proposal did not even deserve a response.
You can probably imagine how relieved I was when Oxonium came into view under the cloud cover. The hills surrounded by the trenches suddenly awakened in me the feeling of coming home — now that was a truly ridiculous thought, by Zair!
Down in the narrow channels, gangs were certainly busy trying to earn money dishonestly, and to fight for territory in villainous ways. On the hills the powerful would be taken care of by slaves and servants, living their comfortable lives and accumulating riches, in many cases also dishonestly. As we got closer, the traces of the earthquake were visible: fallen towers, broken down walls, collapsed domes. The noise of a big city penetrated upward, and shortly afterwards the stench.
It was not difficult to decide who to contact first. King Tom did not know all the details. Hyr Kov Brannomar was the man of the hour.
The fact is, I had a plan. Well, I have so often told of the great plans that I have worked out on Kregen, and you listening to these tapes know how often these fine plans have failed, and disastrously, by Krun! This time Five-handed Eos-Bakchi, the unpredictable Vallian spirit of luck and good fortune smiled down on me. Everything went like clockwork.
Well — almost everything, as you will hear.
The lifterdrome fees had risen in my absence. I paid and left. Ortyg stayed behind; he could stew in his bag, tucked out of sight. I had fed him and given him something to drink, and the bag was beginning to smell. The young prince would just have to endure it. His situation was not bad, certainly better than that of many pathetic slaves.
By a whisker I could have been denied entry into The Crystal Griffon. The tavern was distinguished, and even though I had cleaned myself and my clothes as well as possible it was with great difficulty that I passed the examination of the doorman. Eos-Bakchi smiled on me because the red eyepatch immediately caught my eye. Its owner was sitting alone at a table and eating. I went to him.
Nalgre ti Poventer looked up. Since our first meeting, he had learned much about the art of espionage. He said: “Lahal, Drajak.”
I sat down, ordered a meal — Nalgre would pay — and told him what I wanted. He nodded. When we had eaten, we rented a vehicle and went to the lifterdrome. I took the bag and saw to it that Ortyg could not make any sound or even move a limb. Near the Vallian embassy we paid off the porter and carried the bag the rest of the way ourselves. They let us in immediately.
I told the ambassador the bare essentials, urging him to hide the young prince under close guard out of sight, then put on something more elegant, thanked them and left. Now it was the turn of Brannomar.
Just as expected, I was immediately admitted after the guard had reported my name to his Hikdar. Escorted by guards I entered Brannomar’s palace. This was not my first visit; previously the circumstances had been quite unpleasant, and it had ended when the Hyr Kov had found out to his dismay and his astonishment that this Drajak the Sudden was, in reality, none other than Dray Prescot, possibly the future ruler of all Paz. Afterwards he had gladly agreed to work with me. As I had been told, he was incorruptible.
He received me in his private quarters, and we talked in private.
His ruby-red garment, devoid of unnecessary decoration, and the simple sword at his belt, fitted well with his tanned face, silver beard and his close cropped silver hair. He said: “Lahal — Drajak, right?”
“Aye, Kov. I am glad to see you.” I told him bluntly that I had hidden the young Prince Ortyg in a safe place. “Now he cannot help Caneldrin any more or plot against you.”
He sat down, poured two glasses of sazz which sparkled in the orange light penetrating through the window, and shook his head. “What they say about you is understated, by Tolaar; the truth is even more outlandish!”
He quickly recovered from his surprise. The crazy leem Dray Prescot had the Ortyg problem solved simply by stuffing him into a sack and hiding him. Ortyg had been removed from the game.
“The young Prince is unharmed?”
“He smells somewhat and his pride is badly shaken, but he has suffered no physical harm. My people will keep him locked up until this whole affair is done. That is, of course, only with your consent, Kov.”
He waved his hand, took his glass, but only held it and did not drink. He had to have realized that my words were no more than mere courtesy; the complicated situation dictated that I had to hold Ortyg, whether he agreed or not.
The long scar on his left cheek stood out clearly from the surrounding skin and jerked involuntarily as he processed what was happening and began to ponder how it was likely to proceed. But he was now forced to incorporate what he knew about Dray Prescot — or thought he knew.
“Men and women call you a wild leem-hunter. The books, the plays, not to mention the puppet shows.” He took a sip of the sazz. “And I can’t help but think of the knot of the Kovneva Sinkie.”
I nodded. This famous legend is common to the whole of Paz, and although its topic — the solution of a difficult task — resembles the Earthly story of the Gordian knot, it is quite different. When Alexander cut through the knot, he laid claim to the whole of Asia. On Kregen, the everlasting knot held closed the night robe of the Kovneva Sinkie. And who was the legendary figure who solved this delicate task? Well, of course, none other than Kyr Nath, well known from many stories and songs.
I drank the Sazz and suggested to Brannomar that the problem of Khon the Mak could possibly be solved in the same way.
Brannomar’s pursed lips protruded between mustache and beard. He told me that the Hyr Kov Mak had not until now been able to recruit Chuliks, which did not surprise me.
“My agents have told me,” he went on gravely, “that this man has other plans still. But up to now we have not been able to discover the details.”
Suddenly, loud cries were heard in the antechamber. Brannomar jumped up and grabbed the hilt of his sword. I reached the door and opened it with my sword drawn, too. Brannomar breathed heavily at my side. The noise echoed through the antechamber like a rashoon.
The focus of attention was one of the Kov’s guards. He was a Yvonnim; he had no tail and only two arms. His hair, which was usually worn projecting vertically from his head, had been cut and was flattened by the prescribed uniform helmet. The Yvonnim are considered fairly good infantry soldiers, who have particularly sharp hearing through their floppy ears. Their noses are broad and flat, reaching from cheek to cheek, and their eyes are deep under a wide, protruding forehead.
This fellow was in the uniform and armor of the Kov. The armor had already been torn apart by the gigantic forces raging inside his body. The uniform tore. He was bigger and wider. He ballooned. The other guards screamed and backed away from him. In the elegantly furnished antechamber naked fear and chaos erupted.
We had only one chance: we had to kill the poor devil before he reached the full size of an ibmanzy. Once the demon had taken over, nothing could stop the destruction that it would unleash.
Brannomar let out a curse. The antechamber emptied rapidly as the guards fled. I could not blame them, by Krun!
There was nothing I could do with the thraxter. I put it away and pulled the Krozair blade. In that brief moment, that split second, something totally unexpected happened with the growing ibmanzy. He raised his hands, and from his fingers the first talons were already emerging. His face contorted. But he did not grow any more in height! His head sank into his body. His feet... From the tattered leather strips of his soldier boots, black slime spilled!
This unexpected change made me pause, and I watched as if frozen.
More and more black slime gushed. Now it came through the rents in his uniform, it sprayed from every part of his body. A glistening black jet of slime shot from the distorted mouth. The man shrank and became less and less until in the end there was only a smelly black puddle of slime spreading over the whole carpet.