Scorpio Triumph [Dray Prescot #43] Read online

  “I will answer. Yes, I see your position.” The icy voice had regained its usual oiled-steel quality. “I would be annoyed—”

  “Annoyed!”

  “You were so angry you could not think straight. You knew me. You know the correct forms of address. You call me notor, lord. No, you cannot be excused your conduct on those grounds.”

  “I do not need to be excused my conduct on any grounds. Do not forget, Gochert, if you are taking refuge behind rank, you are only a vad.”

  His gasp was a perfectly genuine reaction of shock.

  Perhaps, in that moment, I felt I might have gone too far. He could lift a hand and his people would shaft me. Oh, sure, I'd knock down some of the arrows and bolts, enough would get through to pincushion me. Now—I felt I'd taken the measure of his mettle. My very first assessment of him had been drastically modified, not least by his conduct during this recent meeting and the fight. We were now standing with our weapons ready facing each other and talking.

  Before he'd finished that shocked gasp I went on in my old gravel-shifting voice. “I fought Hamal. The great empire Thyllis ruled is now justly governed by the Emperor Nedfar. Spikatur Hunting Sword fell into—”

  He had spirit and fire, ice-cold though he might be. He rallied from the devastating shock of being told he was only a vad. He came back with: “You are talking nonsense. What do you know of—?”

  “You ventured into the City of Eternal Twilight and tumbled down into the Realm of the Drums. You think you'd just entered when my Pachak comrade, Wa-Te, and I, met you. Yet many of your party were skeletons.”

  “Magic.” He had caught the underlying seriousness of this situation now and he stood, wanting to know the answers.

  “Oh, surely, there is a great deal of magic down here. And I may add that I am highly pleased to see your lady Merlee is safe. The full extent of what has gone on is remarkable and you will find it hard to credit it.” I hefted my crowbar as he opened his mouth. “No, Gochert. Just let me tell you what has been going on in the world outside whilst you have been stuck down here.”

  He shook his head, not in negation but, I guessed, somewhere between astonishment and dazed resignation. I felt I had not misjudged him. Some lords I'd known would have had me shafted and finished by now. So, I told him the history of his part of Paz since the time he'd come down here, of which you have been apprized in my narrative. He listened without speaking and after a time sheathed his unmarked blades and called for wine.

  He did say: “I have heard of Loriman, the Hunting Kov; I have not, to my misfortune, had the pleasure of meeting him.”

  He shook his head over the sad fate of Spikatur Hunting Sword, and grunted when I related—only in partial detail—the death of Csitra.

  “And she was the wife of the Hyr Notor?”

  “Aye, my friend. That Wizard of Loh, Phu-Si-Yantong, and his uhu offspring, were thoroughly bad even though we always attempted to find some good in them. As for Csitra—well, she was pathetic, really.”

  “But all of ‘em evil—I saw what that bastard the Hyr Notor did.”

  “Yes. Although Csitra—no, she wasn't all evil.”

  By this time slaves had brought table and chairs and the wine went around. The lady Merlee joined us and listened intently. A freer atmosphere gave me a feeling that I'd cracked a very tough nut. There was always the chance that Gochert, seething with fury and frustration at my treatment of him, was merely playing me along. Once he'd heard my fairy story he'd have me done away with. Still, would a high and mighty noble stay his hand from vengeful slaughter just to hear a fairy story?

  Quite clearly there was no way I could prove this yarn that purported to be the history of Paz. When I told Gochert and Merlee of Queen Satra's enormous expedition into the Realm of the Drums, they exchanged a quick glance. Also, by this time, I was convinced Gochert's left eye was not lost. He looked out through the gemmed patch for reasons, possibly, of sheer devilment when facing an opponent, another example of his psychological attack, along with that fixed smile. I said: “I need to meet up with the queen again, for personal reasons. When we do so, then, of course, you'll see my fantastic fairy story is true.”

  “We heard of Queen Satra when we were planning the expedition.” The lady Merlee spoke carefully. “She was reputed to come here five hundred seasons ago.”

  “Yes. She believes the Empire of Loh still exists.”

  On a little gasp, Merlee said: “A real Queen of Pain!”

  “Oh, aye, my lady. She is as she is, as they say.”

  She favored me with a quick upward glance, a slanting look that saw a great deal. “You have told us this story. We may either believe the fantastic farrago or not. If it is all true—and I make no judgment at this point—your part in this turbulent history is unclear.”

  “Um,” I said.

  “Yes, Drajak the Sudden.” Gochert's slicing voice held sudden new suspicion. “You have told us what would be known to the world; you have also told us things that would be known only to kings and emperors.”

  In a tone I tried to make as smooth as possible, I said: “I am very willing to call you notor and to respect your rank. Suppose I tell you I was placed in a very high position in the retinue of an emperor?”

  As soon as I had spoken I wished I'd said king or prince.

  “This new Emperor Nedfar, you mean?” Merlee continued to stare.

  In for a preysany, in for a zorca. “The Emperor of Vallia.”

  Gochert put his wine cup down. “That raving Clansman Dray Prescot?”

  “Aye—notor.”

  “His new model army was doing well, as I heard it, against Thyllis's forces up north. And there is Pandahem—”

  He was interrupted by Merlee, who touched his hand. “If what Drajak says is true, that is all over.”

  “Of course.” He put his other hand over hers.

  I said: “Dray Prescot is no longer emperor. His son, Drak, is emperor with Silda as empress. They prosper.”

  “How did Prescot die?”

  “No, he is still alive. He and the divine Delia abdicated.”

  “You astonish me. That is perhaps the most fantastic part of your whole fantastic story!”

  “A burden well relinquished, notor. Drak is a far better emperor than ever I—that is, than ever Dray Prescot was.”

  I stared at them. Chattering on like this always drops you slap bang into trouble, by Vox! Seeing a way out, I added: “I was about to say that Drak is a better emperor than ever I gave credit to Dray Prescot; but that implies personal criticism which might be inappropriate. So I merely quoted general opinion.” The lady Merlee was giving me a real gimlet stare.

  She said: “You are a mercenary, I see. You must be a zhanpaktun to have witnessed so much employed by the emperor.”

  Deliberately, I put a hand to my throat. That is very often the natural gesture of a paktun, a mercenary touching the golden pakzhan or silver pakmort, when they are mentioned in conversation.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Gochert, still all ice and cold steel, took his hand from Merlee's and picked up his wine cup. “I find you a remarkable man, Drajak the Sudden. If you are tazll and seek employment I would welcome you to join my guard. I fully and freely forgive you for those insults shouted under dire provocation, for I see you are a man of spirit, accustomed—perhaps overly accustomed—to the company of emperors and kings and therefore forgetful at times.”

  Now you couldn't say fairer than that. I found great pleasure in the reflection that I'd judged this Vad Gochert aright.

  Opening my mouth to make some suitable reply, I was stopped by Merlee in her soft breathy voice. “You said, Drajak, that the lord Gochert was only a vad. I think I see what you meant in the heat of the moment. Why don't you tell us your rank and who you really are?”

  The moment hung, palpable with renewed doubts and obvious suspicions held by this little Witch of the Demaskar Persuasion that I did not relish at all, at all, by Zair!

&
nbsp; A sharp and high-pitched voice cracked out: “Notor—!”

  Another voice, booming with authority, roared: “Stand stock still, all of you, or you are all dead!”

  We whipped about to see dark agile figures ringing Gochert's huddle of people, bows lifted, the light glittering off sharpened steel.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Chapter four

  No one moved. Under the threat of those bows only the biggest fool in all Kregen would have attempted to do anything at all not sanctioned by those marksmen.

  A man came striding through Gochert's people. He looked neither right nor left. He wore completely plain armour. The great Lohvian longbow was held in that apparently lazy, effortless way of your true Bowman of Loh. His brilliant blue eyes beamed on us. Around his waist he wore a flaunting red sash, the only flamboyant mark about him. His face, bronzed, handsome, commanded instant obedience. He marched lithely up to the table.

  “Well, my old dom, and you are still in one piece?”

  “Oh, aye, majister,” I said, and stood up, and clasped his hand which, as he was a Bowman of Erthyrdrin, could grip the shaft and draw and loose before you could detect the movement. “Oh, aye, and among friends.”

  “Then, by the Veiled Froyvil, that is as it should be.”

  I turned to Gochert and Merlee: “You have the honor to be in the presence of Seg Segutorio, the King of Croxdrin and Hyr Kov of Balkan. Majister, may I present Vad Gochert and the lady Merlee?”

  “Lahal,” said Seg. He gave me a funny old look. He and I both, we loved to play act with titles when they served a purpose. Anyway, dear old Seg, the truest blade comrade a fellow could have, was a king and hyrkov.

  “Lahal—majister,” said Gochert and Merlee. They looked just a trifle apprehensive.

  I said: “Majister—is—?”

  “Blooming! More lovely than ever—and in a right old paddy over your whereabouts. By Vox, my old dom, you're in for a bit of stick when you get back!”

  “Where are—?”

  “Each is leading a party. We have arrangements to meet up again without getting lost. It is my good fortune to have found you.”

  “Any news of the Wizard of Loh?”

  Here I referred to Na-Si-Fantong who had vanished with the red ruby of the Skantiklar.

  Seg shook his head. “Disappeared in a puff of smoke, I shouldn't wonder.”

  I said: “I think, majister, the lads can relax now and we can make the pappattu with Vad Gochert's people.”

  Out there the swods of First Emperor's Sword Watch would keep a very sharp eye on anything that went on around their Kendur, their emperor. So everybody relaxed and the wine was passed, and I had another enormous meal to attempt to fill the hollow between my ribs. There was little anybody could tell anyone else. Na-Si-Fantong had taken the ruby and escaped. That meant he now had at least two, and possibly more. Out of the nine rubies there was still the one in Makilorn and the one in Vallia. As for the others, well, that was up to Deb-Lu-Quienyin to discover.

  Our conversation on this subject, although Seg and I tried to be circumspect, could not help but be understood by anyone who possessed the knowledge of the Skantiklar and its supposed magic potency.

  So, only half surprised, I heard Gochert say: “I gather you have lost the ruby. It cannot be a secret that we came here for that, also.”

  “Tell me, vad,” said Seg in his grandest kingly manner. He didn't wink at me; I knew he wanted to!

  Gochert's story was simple enough, yet vastly intriguing, by Krun! Because Spikatur Hunting Sword was a loose organization—if that—of people devoted to resisting the Empire of Hamal, any assistance was desperately needed. A Wizard of Loh in Hyrklana had offered to help. His name was Phar-Si-Wyrnon. He'd said that if someone would fetch him the ruby from the Realm of the Drums under the City of Eternal Twilight, it would immeasurably increase his powers to assist Spikatur. Gochert had volunteered.

  Seg rubbed his chin. “That's bad news. Another party is in the hunt for the Skantiklar.”

  Gochert, sharply, said: “There is no legal right of ownership here.”

  “Also,” pointed out Merlee, “you have lost the ruby.”

  “Tell us about this Wizard of Loh,” I said.

  “Strange, as they all are. I must admit I was not altogether certain he could be trusted. But the advantages he offered were great, very great. He was supposed to send his assistant; but at the last moment he could not come.”

  “Another wizard would have been useful,” I said. Then quickly I added: “To aid the lady Merlee.”

  “I didn't care for him much,” she said, with a toss of her head. “He was big and bulky and he always took a breath and nodded his head before he said anything.”

  “By the Black Chunkrah!” I said. “Na-Si-Fantong!”

  “Yes, that is his name.”

  “And he's the mage who made off with the ruby.”

  “Oh!” said Merlee, and put a hand to her mouth.

  “Precisely. Spikatur Hunting Sword is gone now, so he wants the ruby for his own purposes. He already has one we know about. If what we fear is correct, then he intends great mischief.”

  Gochert looked surprised. “There is more than one?”

  “Nine,” said Seg. “Nine of the dratted things.”

  “He waited a long time before he came down here,” I pointed out. “That could be because his master, Phar-Si-Wyrnon, held him back after Gochert's failure to return. It's my guess Wyrnon is dead now.”

  “And by the hand of Fantong!” Merlee sounded quite sharp.

  “Right.” Seg stood up from the table. “It's no good lollygagging about here. It's time we were off. There are people who want to know you're all right.”

  Gochert and Merlee arose swiftly enough after the king. If they knew the place of underlings beneath them, they equally knew their place in the presence of royalty. I must confess, I joyed in seeing Seg receiving the proper treatment that was his due, and in that feeling of pleasure subsisted a degree of sympathetic understanding that he detested kow-towing as much as did I. Neither of us forget the times we'd been slaves together.

  There was a very great need for me to march over to the lines of 1ESW and greet and be greeted as was seemly in these circumstances. “Hai Kendur!” rang out, followed by a roaring hubbub as everyone joined in and we had the beginnings of a right royal shindig. Only the swods of the emperor's Guard Corps addressed their emperor as their Kendur. As I shouted greetings to old friends, I realized anew the convenience of that. After their break out in the Cavern of the Fire they'd quickly rounded up their uniforms, armor and weapons, and gone haring off after me with Seg in the lead. Inch had taken First Emperor's Yellow Jackets. Delia, Milsi and Sasha had led Empress's Devoted Life Guard and her Jikai Vuvushis. Others of my comrades and new found friends had joined in. What Queen Satra, with whose expedition my people had been marching, had thought of all the fraught comings and goings that must have gone on before the search parties took off, I didn't know. But I fancied it had given her muchly to think.

  We set off confidently with our scouts up front. Seg told me that the lads had settled into the procedures for delving down here with calm professional expertise, as we knew they would. There was not the chance of a woflo in a Herrelldrin Hell of the Guard Corps allowing me to take the lead. “We've done it,” said Seg, “and they know it, and know it's their turn now.”

  “I just hope none of ‘em gets himself killed, that's all.”

  “Aye.”

  “I still can't reconcile myself to the idea that a stupid red ruby is so important. By Vox, Seg! I know magic is magic and all that, but it's hard to view this Skantiklar with the fear and veneration it appears to warrant.”

  “Deb-Lu says it is so, and that means it must be.”

  “I suppose so. I just have the itch to be about our other business.”

  “Blattering Shanks. Aye, my old dom. That's our normal priority.”

 
“But not now?”

  “Deb-Lu is convinced this Na-Si-Fantong, if he gets his grubby little paws on the Skantiklar, will do us as much, if not more, mischief as the damned Fish Faces.”

  “Yes, well.” I rolled my shoulders around as we marched. “We'll just have to get after him sharpish.”

  “Aye. Once we know where he's gone.”

  “More wizard's work.”

  Seg changed the subject, I suspected by intent to get my mind off fretting over what we were doing instead of bashing Fish Heads. “These people are wondering who you are. Drajak the Sudden won't hold up for ever.”

  “Well, again, I suppose so. Although who and what I am or supposed to be won't impress Queen Satra.”

  “When she finds out her Empire of Loh vanished three hundred seasons ago, she's likely to believe anything.”

  “Ha! You've hit the Chunkrah's eye there!”

  At that point the column halted and faintly from ahead we heard shouts and ferocious yells. Presently we started up again and Nath the Burly came back nursing a gash in his arm.

  “It's nothing, Kendur,” he said as I accosted him. “A pesky vorlind insisted on trying to bite us.”

  “All the same, Nath, get it seen to. Vad Gochert has a needleman.”

  “Quidang, jis!”

  He trundled off, a hard, human, devoted member of 1ESW.

  Nothing else of importance occurred, at least to my knowledge, before we reached Queen Satra's encampment. Her tents and marquees had been set up in a sizeable cavern, and the size of her expedition meant many of her people were camping out in the corridors adjacent. We marched through, and Balass the Hawk, beaming all over his handsome black face, came up to greet me and to direct us to our camping area. The lavishness of Satra's entourage down here in the labyrinth continued to impress me. She was a woman who had wielded terrible power almost all her life. We had to break the news to her that her puissant empire was no more.

  That, I felt strongly, was where Delia could exercise her charm and subtlety, and in being gracious mitigate the shock.