King of Swords (The Starfolk) (27 page)

Z
ozma bounded out the door as if he were chasing wildebeest. Rigel, attempting to follow, caught a glimpse of a mousy human male leaping aside on the stairs to avoid being run over, spilling a shower of paper, pens, and ink bottles. The sphinx’s tail vanished around a corner at the bottom, and Rigel was about to barrel after him when he was stopped in his tracks by a bellow from behind him.

“Halfling!”

He turned. “My lady?”

Talitha was red-faced and spitting fire. “A retainer does not go plunging into suicidal adventures without asking for his sponsor’s permission or giving her advance warning!”

To which the best answer he could find on the spur of the moment was, “You ordered me to defend your son, my lady.”

“My son is not in the house on Front Street!”

“But his enemies are. Have you never heard that the best form of defense is attack? You expect me to sit around waiting for those goons to keep trying to—
No, let me finish!
I will not wait to be slaughtered at their pleasure. It is time to teach them some respect for the law. And respect for Saiph, which is
what you wanted all along, not me. Saiph is needed and it cannot go without me. Now, by your leave, I am on Her Majesty’s business.”

He tried to leave and she grabbed his arm, digging in her fingers with surprising strength. “You idiot, you don’t know what you’re getting into! I doubt if any of the amulets Wasat gave you will do any good at all against Naos Vildiar if he’s there, and his thugs will be armed beyond anything the law allows.”

“Saiph is a Lesath too. It slices sphinxes, remember? Now,” he added recklessly, “if you won’t give me a good luck kiss, at least show me a smile so I can die happy.”

She gaped at him, speechless, her fingers still digging into his arm. Just then Kornephoros emerged from the Dolphin Room. “Can’t you ever keep your hands off that mongrel? Stay with Her Majesty but don’t gossip. I’ll take the halfling down.”

So ended Rigel Estell’s first romance…

A few minutes later, Rigel was standing under a lemon tree in a shady corner of the sphinxes’ courtyard, wishing he had not shouted at Talitha so stupidly and that he had more experience with women so he could understand why she had been so angry with him if he was no more than a servant. Zozma was conferring with three of his officers, while a dozen or so harpies lined up on the opposite wall were screeching complaints and obscenities at everyone.

A centaur trotted in through the arch. She was jet-black all over, except for her lips and two large human nipples and areolas, which were blood red—Rigel was too polite to check if she had a mare’s teats as well. As a horse she would have
measured at least sixteen hands and her human part could have matched a Russian wrestler in sheer muscle, yet her ears were elfin-shaped and bore jeweled studs. Her hair was thick and straight and bound in a ponytail long enough to brush her back.

Horseshoes clattering loudly on the paving, she headed straight for him and stopped a little too close for comfort, looking down at him with undisguised disgust. She set her hands on the part of her body that served as both human hips and equine shoulders; Rigel noted her many rings and bracelets, as he was no doubt supposed to. Her name was Bellatrix.

“I understand I have to help you be the freakin’ cavalry,” she said.

“Not my idea. Is there another way?”

“If there was, I’da’ found it. You’re the Saiph-bearer?”

“This is Saiph. What are all your trinkets for?”

“Enif, my bow. Wezen, my sword. Daggers, fireballs, paralyzer, et futon cetera. You done much police work?”

“None.”

“Ridden a horse?”

“Never.”

“That’s a relief.” She looked over at the sphinxes and Kornephoros, who had disappeared earlier and had now returned. The harpies were jeering at him because he had shed his golden collar, probably to prepare for battle, but of course they were accusing him of having been stripped of his office. If that ever happened, Vildiar and Talitha were the only Naos available to replace him.

“Stars, I hate those shitty birds,” Bellatrix said. “Looks like Zoz is almost ready. You’d better practice falling off a few times.” She turned with a clatter of hooves to put her left side toward Rigel, then twisted her human torso around to offer
him her right arm. She raised her left rear knee, or whatever that part of her was called.

Taking the hints, he gripped her wrist, put a foot on the step-up offered, and… and very nearly fell flat on his face. The harpies shrieked, momentarily averting their attention from Kornephoros.

“Hold my other arm too, you idiot.”

Rigel tried again. Inspired by thoughts of what the harpies would say if he failed a second time, he mounted successfully. Or Bellatrix hauled him aboard, whatever.

“Keep your knees higher,” she said. “And hold on to my hair. If I tell you to hold
tight
, you can put your arms around me, but touch my breasts and I’ll throw you off and kick your head in. Ready?” She walked slowly around the courtyard.

The harpies continued shrieking insults at him. He ignored them, and then survived a brief trot and even a few gentle swerves and bounces.

“Not bad,” the centaur admitted over her shoulder. “Great reflexes. Thighs need work, but you’re doing well for a first-timer.”

“Thanks.”

“Now tell me exactly what the helmet does.”

He repeated what Wasat had told him.

“That’s impressive! Never heard of one like that. So you’re really going to walk up to the front door and just open it? Are they paying you or blackmailing you?”

He couldn’t see the centaur’s face and had only her tone of voice to go on. Was she mocking him or not? “I volunteered.”

“Is there much insanity in your family? How will you deal with the lock?”

“Hadn’t thought of that. How would you deal with it?”

Bellatrix chuckled for the first time. “With my back feet, if I had to. But I also have this. Take it.” She passed him a gold ring with a white stone. “Turn the handle with whichever hand you wear that on, and you’ll get through most doors. Vildiar may have double-hexed his, o’ course. Here comes Menkent at last.”

Another centaur came cantering in through the gate, a young male. “Hey, pussycats!” he yelled, cavorting around the sphinxes and kicking up his heels. “Wake up! Where’s the mouse hole? Cough up your hair balls and let’s go.”

“I do hope we’re ready,” Bellatrix said. “Any more of his crap and the sphinxes will surely eat him.” She carried Rigel over to join the group.

So now he’d joined the Mounties. His life just kept getting stranger and stranger.

A
bout twenty minutes later, Bellatrix said, “Call a harpy and tell Zozma we’re ready.”

“Why don’t you?” Rigel retorted grumpily.

They were in an alley facing the harbor. She could peer out and see along Front Street in both directions. He could smell the sea, with wafts of cinnamon and coffee and tar; he could hear axles and pulleys squealing, sailors and porters and hucksters shouting; but all he could
see
was the back of her head. He had been sitting astride her too long for his physical comfort.

“Because the next time one of those stinking chickens insults me, I’m going to put five arrows through its crop.”

“Sounds reasonable. Harpy!” That command invoked the message stud in his helmet, and a few moments later a female harpy flapped down to perch on a wall beside him.

“Hey, horsey! You got some shit on your back.”

“Go and tell Commander Zozma that we’re ready!” Rigel said.

“You think he’ll care?” the harpy screeched, but it could not refuse the order and took off with a mad tumult of wings.

It was barely airborne before another landed in the space it had just vacated. “What’s black and has six legs?” it demanded. “I’m talking to you, beetle.”

“Enif!”
the centaur snarled. A strung bow appeared in her left hand, an arrow in her right.

“Easy, easy!” Rigel said. “Ask it for its message first.”

“Talk before I kebab you, vulture!” Bellatrix nocked the arrow.

Either the harpy recognized genuine peril, or it had a high cowardice coefficient. Maybe both. It took off even while screaming its message:

“Zozmasaystogoandmesseverythingupthewayyoualwaysdo.”

“Hold on tight!”
Bow and arrow vanished. Rigel barely had time to wrap his arms around the centaur’s waist before they were out of the alley and leaning into a sharp left turn in a frenzied clatter of hooves, amidst cries of alarm from passing humans. He buried his head into Bellatrix’s hard-muscled back, while keeping his grip safely below the danger zone she had mentioned earlier. They hurtled by wagons, carts, stalls, laden donkeys, screaming children, and a few outraged starfolk. Then Bellatrix clattered to a halt before an imposing iron-studded timber gate set in a high white-plastered wall.

“Stars be with you, halfling.”

“Thanks for the ride.”

Rigel dropped to the ground, staggered as he adjusted to being a biped again, and mentally crossed his fingers. Would the gate kill him outright or just char his arm? The multicolored Rongo-rongo script on the brass plate probably said something like,
Residence of Prince Vildiar, Trespassers will be Liquefied.
Rigel reached out his left hand, the one with the ring on it, and turned the handle. The gate opened. As he
stepped through into a covered breezeway, he heard the centaur canter away, satisfied that she had played her part.

His heartbeat stabilized at about eight hundred, his blood pressure around a million. He had done it, and now it was too late to stop or go back, although Saiph was vibrating furiously. He must not hesitate or linger. Five quick steps took him through the archway to the courtyard Talitha had described and holographed in the Dolphin Room. It was bigger than he’d expected and she had left out the staircases on either side of the entrance. The trees were higher, and the courtyard was cluttered with assorted furniture and flowers galore. Black swans floated on one of the pools, while headless pink flamingoes stood asleep in another. But there were no people in sight. Maybe everyone had already left the property after all. His sense of relief was enormous; Rigel Estell was not cut out to be a burglar.

Saiph was still throbbing, though.

He continued walking, going fast but not running, keeping his head high as if he had every right to be there. He could see his destination in the center of the wall far ahead, two large double doors painted dark blue. He didn’t look up to see if harpies were circling or perched on the tops of the walls, but Zozma had seemed confident that they would keep him informed of Rigel’s progress. Or death, although he had not said that.

Talitha had been derogatory about the residence, but it would have made a first-class motel, and to a vagrant earthling minstrel, it seemed like a cozy little palace. Its white stucco walls and red-tile roof gave it a Mexican or Californian air. The portal was set back in an alcove, which might be helpful if Saiph had to hold it against a ravening horde.

That did seem unlikely now, in spite of the bracelet’s continued warnings. He was halfway there, and no one had challenged him yet. Menkent would be setting out right about now, bringing Prince Kornephoros to de-magic the gate. By the time he arrived and started his work, Rigel should be at the portal, ready to play Horatio holding the bridge.

There were two men just ahead, on the balcony to his left.

He hadn’t seen them when he’d first entered because they’d been hidden by hanging flower baskets. They were leaning on the balustrade, watching something below them, something behind the next bush Rigel had to pass. They wore SS riding britches, but were bare to the waist. The huge one was Hadar himself.

Whatever was holding their attention, they would certainly notice Rigel going past. The helmet hiding his white hair should keep them from recognizing him for a few moments. Even then, their reaction might be guarded until they realized that no starborn could wear a hat that shape. He forced his feet to keep walking, held his gaze straight forward.

A pair of bare feet came into sight on the grass beyond the bush, then ankles, then calves. Hairy calves, so not elfin. Heels up, toes down. Very little of the person underneath was visible other than her legs and arms, wrapped around her friend.
That sort of party!
That explained why Talitha had blushed when the queen had asked her if the court was overlooked, and why the two men on the balcony were being so quiet, not disturbing the performance.

“Who the stars are you?”
They had seen him.

Their cries of outrage alerted the couple on the grass, who disentangled instantly. A real assassin would have killed both of them before they could get up, but Rigel just sprinted for the portal.

He reached the double doors and spun around. The alcove was too wide and shallow to force the defenders to come at him one at a time, but it would make it harder for them to get behind him. Here he had to make his stand until the sphinxes arrived. Here he had to block the escape route of killers fleeing justice, desperate men with nothing to lose. Here Saiph had to earn its reputation anew, against odds of three to one, and for the first time Rigel Halfling would be facing other swords, not unarmed suckers. They would undoubtedly try to use magic against him too, and he would need to rely on the defenses Wasat had given him.