Gangs of Antares [Dray Prescot #45] Read online

  What they didn't know was that we two kregoinyes had been summarily hurled through some outlandish and eerie other dimension. The Star Lords wanted us to guard the numim twins. We had no right to go gallivanting off in pursuit of other objectives.

  Also, and this sent a shiver of alarm up through my spine, I knew I'd been lucky. The Star Lords could always hurl me back through four hundred light years to Earth as punishment if I disobeyed them. That thought brought the image of Delia smack bang into the forefront of my mind. There really is no time when the thought of Delia is absent from my brain; but brutal incidents similar to what had transpired here shocked me with the disaster I had so narrowly courted. No. Oh, no, by Zair! There was nothing I would not do to stay on Kregen with Delia, Delia of the Blue Mountains, Delia of Delphond.

  Fweygo thrust his cleaned drexer back into the scabbard and the door opened again and he instantly drew the brand again and hurled himself forward.

  Nandisha let out a little moan and Serinka said: “Tolaar rot them.”

  Princess Nisha in a short white dress was casually slung over the shoulder of the second fellow through the doorway. She made no sound or movement so she'd probably fainted. The three other men, all apims, following on, carried their blades naked in their fists.

  The first kidnapper striding on ahead past the door he'd kicked open was a Chulik. His greasy yellow face shone in the lamp light. His pigtail—an anonymous black—was pulled forward over his left shoulder. His pakai was long, there were many rings forming the string of the pakai, each ring taken from the body of each of his past fights. He saw the golden Kildoi charging upon him and his sword snouted up into the en guarde. Highly professional fighters are Chuliks, trained up from birth to become mercenaries and to fight for gold. They had more humanity than at first I had believed; all the same, that humanity was not high and was seldom overtly exhibited.

  Before I went hurtling in to assist my comrade I called across to the numim twins. “Rofi! Rolan! Please help your mother to take the princess away. Make sure you are safe. Hurry!”

  Rolan hesitated. He still held that slender dagger. As a numim he could feel all his ancestral blood rebelling at the idea of thus tamely running off. I scowled at him and then, as I started off, snapped at his sister. “Rofi! Make Rolan see sense—find a safe place to hide. He can always go looking for our guards if he wants. Now—bratch!”

  They jumped and moved towards the couch and passed out of my vision. Kildoi and Chulik exchanged blows and circled and I skipped past them. Noise built up in the corridor, the chirr of steel on steel, the grunts of effort, yells from the men following—and, no doubt, Nandisha was in there screaming away, too.

  For a tiny instant of time speaking to the children I'd wondered if I was telling them to do the right thing. It might not be clever to have them wandering off. Perhaps they'd be safer nearer Fweygo and me. One of the men towards whom I charged settled that uneasy question.

  He yelled savagely and the twinkle of steel in his fingers changed abruptly into a streaking line. Automatically I flicked up my blade to deflect the throwing dagger. I needn't have bothered. He wasn't hurling at me. The wicked thing whistled past my head. I did a stupid thing, then, with these cut throats ready to chop me.

  I turned my head to watch in horror as the flung dagger sliced towards the women and children. If Rolan or Rofi were hit and died...

  The throwing dagger chingled into the wall, rang like a gong, and rebounded to ricochet across to the other side and so tumble uselessly to the floor. There was no time to let out a breath of relief.

  Instantly I flung about again and the rapier was just in time to flick away the first blade slashing towards me. I jumped away to the side and gave the fellow holding Nisha a smack with the hilt of the main gauche. I didn't care to use the blade for fear of Nisha; as it was the blow did not connect cleanly and narrowly missed the limp form of the girl.

  Two swords thrust for me and I circled them with my blade. I thrust in turn, nicking the first man's forearm as he attempted to cut back, and then instantly slicing around the other way to make the second fellow jump back. He let out an explosive oath and his stubbly face went even meaner.

  The third apim bore in. They all wore brass-studded leather armor and good though the steel of the rapier was, I was not prepared to chance it trying to thrust through armor, leather or not. He foined as I sprang away from the first two, his blade going around and around quite prettily. There was no time for niceties of that nature. I started him one way, snapped back and stuck him through the throat. Then it was an immediate leap back and swivel to front the attack from the others.

  The man carrying Nisha did not want to get into the fight and that was eminently sensible of him. He had a sword in his right fist and his left held onto the girl over his shoulder. He hovered. He didn't get into the fight; he didn't run off.

  I flung a quick glance towards the other combat. The Chulik was not enjoying himself. Blood spattered down his armor and he was parrying the Kildoi's attack with growing desperation. Fweygo was up against a topclass swordsman, no doubt of that; there was also absolutely no doubt in my mind that like other Golden Wonders I knew he would very soon overcome this topclass opposition.

  I swung back to the business in hand.

  Steel grated on steel. They tried to come at me from two sides simultaneously. I wasn't having any nonsense like that. With a fresh turn of speed I sprang at the left hand one, flurried my blade at him, forced him back, swiveled and was on the other fellow like a leem taking a ponsho. He swashed his sword at me—he had no buckler—and clearly was unaccustomed to dealing with rapiers. His own braxter could cut me up into little pieces, unarmored as I was, and he was patently baffled by his inability to do so. There was no time even with the breathing space I had created to finish him off. His comrade roared in from the back, trying to spit me through, so I stepped briskly to the side and turned and so had them nicely together again.

  The noise in the corridor had died to a rhythmic stamp of feet, of indrawn breaths, gasps of effort, and the chingle of steel. No one in that fight was an amateur. This heartened me. They most probably would not care to hang around and fight to the death.

  Still the kidnapper with Nisha did not try to escape.

  These two villains had to be disposed of quickly before he made up his mind to run off.

  Either that or appeal to their professionalism to admit they had failed in their kidnap attempt. They would not see it that way at the moment; I would make the appeal with cold steel.

  Side by side they fronted me. The rapier swirled. One, two, three and back, not to one again but to two. This flummoxed them. Their braxters even in combination could not prevent the rapier point from snicking through left-hand's throat and right-hand's eye. They both fell—quite slowly—and the one with only one eye made a considerable noise about it. I swung for the fellow grasping Nisha.

  “Put the princess down gently, dom.”

  Fweygo used his tail hand dagger to finish off the Chulik right at that moment. That added tremendous impetus to my words.

  “I'm only—I meant her no harm—”

  “Oh, I quite believe you. Just put her down gently.”

  He did exactly as I expected him to do. Fweygo also guessed aright. He said: “You catch. I'll—” He didn't finish for what we both anticipated occurred then.

  The kidnapper heaved up the little princess and hurled her at us and then started to run off.

  Obeying Fweygo I dropped my blades and caught Nisha, cradling her. The Kildoi had just started to hare off after the fleeing man when he hauled up. He laughed delightedly.

  The fellow leaped abruptly a foot into the air, span about, eyes goggling, mouth open trying to scream. That was rather too much for him to achieve, what with the dagger transfixing his throat. The throwing dagger had knifed from the shadows of a doorway, a single thin streak of light. From that doorway Tiri stepped into view.

  She said: “Rolan told me—Nisha�
�?”

  “Has fainted.” I looked reproachfully at Fweygo. “You were damned unfair! You should have caught Nisha. I've only got two arms!”

  Tiri moved swiftly in her graceful walk. She held out her arms. “I'll take her, poor little thing.”

  The more I saw of this talented temple dancer the more I became impressed. Her gray-green eyes looked down in sympathy on the girl, who began to stir. “Where are the others?” Tiri wanted to know.

  I bent down to retrieve my weapons, leaving it to the Kildoi to answer. “Oh—they'll be here soon I expect. We'd better find Princess Nandisha and the numims.”

  “Yes, by Zair! And sharply, too.”

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  Chapter five

  Princess Nandisha's cadade would have carried out a ruthless enquiry. Ranaj was spared that chore. The two men of his guard he suspected of treachery—the one who was late and the other who was unwell—had been among our unfortunate fellows slain by the kidnappers.

  “They have no feelings for those they buy,” he commented.

  The general opinion was that this two-pronged onslaught was not the work of the Hyr Kov Khonstanton, Khon the Mak, but rather that of Prince Ortyg.

  “It's that slimy little creature's style,” said Nandisha. She panted and her hair was ruffled and wild. She had not fully recovered, half out of her wits with fear for her missing son. No trace of him had been found at The Clipped Rhok. The City Watch had been informed but no one expected a result from them. We would have to wait for the kidnappers to contact us—if Prince Byrom still lived. As for the City Guard who patrolled in the upper city, they just might have an informer somewhere with knowledge of what went forward in this plot against Nandisha and who would talk in return for gold.

  Serinka insisted that her mistress must rest and we all trooped out leaving a strong guard at every entrance to her quarters. Tiri told me our new young acquaintance was called Dimpy and that the Puncture Lady had stuck him with soothing needles, bound up his wounds and given him a sleeping draught. He would be out for burs yet.

  I reflected as we went along to the refectory for much needed inner sustenance that Tiri, Fweygo and I were forming a nice little team.

  There appeared little chance that nice state of affairs would continue much longer. Tiri had tasks to perform in the Temple of Cymbaro to which we were not privy and we had tasks for the Star Lords. Again I realized how fortunate I'd been that my gross dereliction of duty had not been punished by a trip back to Earth. All the same, whilst Tiri remained with us I would take pleasure from her company. Fweygo and I discussed our predicament. Prince Tom, a nice lad who was more interested in the religion of Cymbaro than being king, was now the king of Tolindrin. Weasel-faced Prince Ortyg and menacing Khon the Mak both craved the crown and were prepared to go to extreme lengths to obtain that bauble. This despite the old king's will that named Tom the successor and to which this pair of rogues had agreed.

  Also, Princess Nandisha craved the crown for her son.

  I said to Fweygo: “The numim twins are going to be under threat as long as their parents work for Nandisha.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Well, for the sweet sake of Madam Moly Mushtaq! How long do the Star Lords expect us to hang about? The numims aren't going to abandon Nandisha in the near future, are they?”

  “I do not believe so.”

  I swigged down my drink and banged the mug on the table. It was absolutely no use to become heated and start raving. Fweygo's cool manner must not be allowed to irritate me. But I felt that little imp of the perverse grab hold of me, and to prod him a trifle I said: “Well, if we can't get rid of those rasts Ortyg and Khon the Mak, perhaps we could dispose of Nandisha's claim to the throne. Then—”

  “Apart from the fact her claim has been kidnapped, that would be a despicable and dishonorable act, Dray Prescot. You surprise me.”

  I grunted and went over to the serving counter for a fresh wet. The mood I was in I hardly cared if he believed me or not. At least, my words had elicited a reaction from him.

  He stood in awe of the Everoinye—well, that was clearly the only sensible attitude—and was perfectly content to do their bidding for as long as they wished. At least, the Star Lords intervened in a more positive fashion in my affairs after the latest understanding we had reached. Quite possibly Fweygo's presence also materially helped there. Our abrupt departure from The Clipped Rhok was put down to our astute realization that the kidnapping of Byrom was a plot to draw off the guards from Nandisha and Nisha. The Star Lords would have had no trouble covering our disappearance and of convincing Ranaj and his guards. No trouble at all, by Krun!

  Carrying the mug I went back to Fweygo. He gave me an upward slanting look from under his golden eyebrows.

  “The best thing Nandisha can do is go and see Prince—I mean King Tomendishto. And it wouldn't hurt to see Hyr Kov Brannomar. He's one honest broker around here, I believe, even if he is a nob.”

  Fweygo favored me with an odd look. He started to say something, stopped, changed his mind, and said: “Well, aren't you?”

  “Whatever the Everoinye told you about me—”

  “Some.”

  “I'm supposed to be some damnfool Emperor of Emperors.”

  “The Emperor of Paz. Yes, I know.”

  I told him I was heartily glad to see that the crazy idea impressed him as little as it did me.

  So, of course, what did he reply? It shook me, I can tell you, shook me to my roots, by Vox!

  “The Everoinye charged me with assisting you in any way I can.”

  I moved the mug on the table in circles. In a most subdued tone of voice I started to explain. We were alone; I still kept my voice low. I asked him how much of Paz he knew, had visited, and he was able to convince me that he had traveled and knew a lot of the continents and islands. So I expounded on the craziness of any one person attempting to be the ruler of this vast mass of lands and peoples. The scheme smacked of the insane ambitions of others I had known who had aspired to rule vast domains quite beyond their grasp.

  “And they're nearly all dead and gone, now,” I finished.

  “Nevertheless, Dray Prescot, that which the Everoinye command will be done.”

  If I'd had a hat on I'd have torn it off, chucked it down on the floor and jumped on it! By Zair! No, by Vox. This idiocy, I said to myself most put out, was worthy of a ‘By Zim-Zair!'

  By the leprous lips and pendulous posterior of Makki Grodno! The Star Lords had the infernal nerve to embroil poor old Fweygo, a willing and loyal kregoinye, in their maniacal schemes for me and for Paz. Well, at least he had the sense not to bow and scrape before this so puissant emperor. Perhaps the Star Lords had told him I disapproved of the full incline and slavish behavior of that kind. He treated me in ways not too dissimilar from the superior ways of my good comrade Pompino the Iarvin. Then the thought hit me. Djan have mercy! Suppose the Star Lords sent Pompino to me to help! Opaz forfend!

  Fweygo said: “The Everoinye told me this today, when you and Tiri were fussing over that new young scruffy friend of yours. I am not sure—not quite sure—just how I should react, treat you, seeing how incompetent you are and in need of my constant care and attention.”

  I favored him with a look that was more quizzical than hard. Extraordinarily difficult to tell what these confounded Kildois were thinking in their cool and crafty skulls behind those handsome faces. Yes, he could be speaking what he believed to be the truth. Or, he could be teasing me in that dry Kildoi fashion.

  So, I made no direct reply.

  Instead, I said, casually: “Oh, we are kregoinyes and we work well together. I hope we will become even better comrades. Let's leave it at that.”

  “Quidang!”

  When he said that, the formal acceptance of an order, I knew he wasn't altogether serious.

  He changed the subject of conversation easily enough by taking out his new sword and examining it again. He shook his
head.

  “This blade is a marvel. It serves amazingly well—the balance is perfect. As for the edge, it is sharp, satisfyingly sharp.”

  “I know Tolindrin steel is poor quality. Is there no decent steel in all of Balintol, then?”

  “We have a small supply of good iron ore in Kildrin; as you can imagine that is reserved for those with money.”

  Kildrin lay on the west coast north of Tolindrin and south of Winlan with the mountains barring off the east. Most, but not by any means all, Kildois hailed from there. That's where that rast Mefto the Kazzur was born on an evil day.

  Later on that day after Tiri and I had taken a quick look in the bedroom Nandisha had generously put at our disposal for Dimpy, we started to think it time for a proper slap-up Kregen meal. Ranaj was out with the City Guard trying to discover some clue to Byrom's whereabouts. Nisha and her mother were still resting. I'd made up my mind to have a colored salad in preference to a green salad, the weather being on the hot side of warm, when one of the stewards bustled in. He said that a woman wanted to see me and that the guards had searched her and found no weapons beyond a little dagger which they had temporarily confiscated. She waited in one of the anterooms.

  Excusing myself to the others, off I went, slightly intrigued.

  The most probable explanation was that my private spy, Naghan the Barrel, wanted to see me. He'd been a tower of strength so far in Oxonium. The woman stood up as I entered. The guard looked blank-faced at me. I nodded. “It's all right, Ranto. You may leave us.” He saluted and went out, closing the door softly. I motioned to the chair and the woman resumed her seat. She was perfectly composed.