by Dave Duncan
Rigel turned to speak to Mira, ignoring the henchman. “You must ask the prince’s chef for his squirrel paw recipe.”
“I like the taste, but the smell attracts all sorts of vermin.”
Good for her! “Ah, I wondered what was doing it.”
Tarf said, “May I have a peek at the celebrated Saiph?”
“No.” The bracelet was presently hidden by the sleeve of Rigel’s robe and he was strongly opposed to doing anything to oblige a man who would wear that repulsive uniform.
The halfling sneered. “You ever heard of the Dark Cells, sonny?”
By human standards, Rigel would guess that the obnoxious goon was about his own age, but starfolk blood could be deceptive. “They don’t scare me, Untersturmführer.”
“That’s good, because that’s where you’re going if you don’t smarten up real soon.”
Rigel forced a smile that he hoped looked serene and superior. “Those who wear Saiph never go to the Dark Cells, and they never die alone. Run along, boy. The sight of you is spoiling my breakfast.”
Tarf Halfling, if Talitha was correct, had been bred and reared to do his master’s bidding regardless of circumstances. Mere snubs would not discourage him. “Shut up and listen to me, Whitey. Hadar would really like us to have that trinket of yours. It would help us perform our duties better, see? He says he might take you with it, if you’re really polite and can persuade him that you’re the sort of lad who would make himself useful.”
Rigel sighed. He was starting to think that he didn’t exist in any world except as the half-breed with the bangle. They were all after his amulet. Even Talitha only wanted an armed babysitter.
“Have you noticed,” Mira said, nibbling a very earthlike pear, “how this over-age Hitler Youth reject never mentions Vildiar? It’s an old gangster trick. The mafiosi never incriminate their dons.”
Yes, Rigel had noticed. “I don’t suppose Vildiar even has to drop hints. The boys see to his every need.” Now Saiph was a need.
Tarf refused to be drawn. His shark smile stretched his face again.
“What do you suppose,” Rigel asked Mira, “I would have to do to convince Reichsführer Hadar that I would make a trustworthy employee? Would one murder be enough? Even then, I’d never really be one of the boys, would I? Nothing I could do would make me belong to that gallant band of brothers. What could Prince Vildiar offer me that Prince Kornephoros can’t?”
“A long life, lad,” Tarf said. “Much longer than you’re going to get otherwise. And anything else your heart desires, anything at all. You want it, it’s yours.”
Rigel shuddered. “Boiled babies?”
“As many as you can eat.” The Halfling smirked convincingly. “Try asking for something difficult.”
“Go,” Rigel said. “Away. Stay,” he added. “Away. Or,” he promised, “I will personally nail you to a chair from the throat down. Understand?”
The hoodlum laughed. “Big words. We’ll see how loud you talk an hour from now, kid. If we can’t have the trinket, we’ll make sure it’s never used against us.”
Glumly chewing a suddenly tasteless breakfast, Rigel watched as Tarf strutted back to his prince and fellow thug. Why wasn’t Hadar present? Not his turn for a ride in the royal barge, or was he up to something nasty somewhere else? At the far end of the gondola, Talitha sat with her back to a window, grimly arguing with her father, who had turned his chair around to face her. Elfin ears were real giveaways, and Talitha’s showed that she was losing the argument.
Mira had noticed that too. “If you’ll pardon my saying so, Mr. Estell, I think you’re in a serious pickle. Your friend doesn’t seem to be making any headway with her daddy.”
For once sympathy was welcome, as was the mere sight of a human face.
“How can she? He obviously has to do whatever Vildiar tells him. If I may say so, Ms. Silvas, you’re holding up pretty well yourself. Your situation is even worse than mine.”
She smiled, showing human teeth that were a delight to see. “I still kind of think I’ll wake up if I pinch myself hard enough. This has been a wild ride of an adventure, but I’ll probably sink or swim with you… and right now it looks like we’re on the Titanic. What happens if your fashion model can’t persuade her pappy to enter the bidding for Saiph?”
“Nothing nice.”
“Well, I hope she’s pointing out that he needs a bodyguard even more than Izar does. He ought to set aside his rigid principles just for once and have Vildiar removed before Vildiar removes him. Even if the regent keeps doing his bidding, he’ll get sick of him eventually.”
The same thought had occurred to Rigel. “I wonder how honest the courts are here?” The judges might be just as terrified of Vildiar as the regent was. “Look, I am quite happy to be a bodyguard, and I would fight to defend myself or my ward, but I will not be an assassin for anyone. Never, never, never!”
They ate in silence for a while. Then Mira said, “You’re drooling.”
“Am not!” he protested with his mouth full.
“I mean that every time you look at Talitha you melt and smoke comes out of your ears. You are in love, sonny! You have a bad case of the yearns if I’ve ever seen one.”
“How can I not be? She is absolutely the most gorgeous woman I have ever set eyes on.”
“You wouldn’t be afraid of rolling on one of her ears in bed?”
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with Talitha’s ears!”
Mira rolled her eyes. “Of course not! Great for fanning bugs away. But I agree. If your taste runs to beanpoles, then she is Elfland poster girl of the year.”
A huge gust of wind swept through the cabin as a forward window swung wide. The opening was filled with streaming banners of golden hair and Saidak’s enormous head, upside down. “Canopus ahead!” she announced in a stentorian bellow, then disappeared again, closing the window with a bang.
Saidak was flying low above an impossibly blue sea speckled by small boats with triangular sails. Rigel could make out a flat green shore ahead and many white buildings. He was so focused on the view that he didn’t even notice Fomalhaut’s approach. Suddenly the mage was looming over him. “Come up on deck, halfling. You too, earthling. I have to hand you over to the palace guard.” He led the way to the stairs.
Rigel followed, wondering which side Vildiar’s underling favored. Was he a secret Talitha supporter? He had given Izar a guard dog that could eat Hummers, but even that could be a betrayal if there was some magical password to deactivate the dog just when it was needed.
On deck, the two pages hung over the rail, eagerly pointing and chattering. The barge was moving more slowly as it approached the city. The air was warmer than it had been elsewhere in the Starlands, although not uncomfortably so.
“Canopus is another star name, isn’t it?” he asked.
To his surprise, Mira answered. “Yes, but it was also the name of the most westerly mouth of the Nile River and of a city on it, back in the days of the pharaohs.” She laughed at his expression. “My parents took me on a trip to Egypt many years ago. I remember our guide telling us that when Alexander the Great founded Alexandria nearby, Canopus shriveled up like a drunk’s cock.”
“But earthquakes and tsunamis helped,” Fomalhaut said. “Those ancient earthly cities have all vanished now—washed away, torn down and rebuilt, or sunk into the mud of the delta, but our Canopus preserves some of their ancient glories. My father visited Alexandria in Roman times, when Canopus was still a suburb with a reputation for debauchery, catering to rich Roman tourists. Some of the buildings you will see are Greek, for Alexandria was a Greek city. Others date back thousands of years before Alexander, and are copies of Egyptian originals from Thebes or Memphis, complete with obelisks and statues of gods and pharaohs and sphinxes.”
“If we are going to do the Egyptian number now, I suppose we’ll see live sphinxes in this domain?” Rigel asked.
“The sphinxes are the palace guards,” the mage said.
“Obey their instructions and answer all their questions.”
Chapter 19
Make way!” roared Saidak, floating in over the harbor just above mast height. “His Highness, the most excellent Prince Kornephoros, regent-heir of the realm, enters his capital.” She went on to proclaim Vildiar and Talitha also, and then started over at the beginning.
Rigel peered down at dozens of boats and ships, and at scores of faces staring up at the barge. As far as he could tell, they were all human faces, none of them bearded. Very young boys wore only loincloths, but all the rest were swathed in loose cotton robes and head cloths that hid their non-elfin deformities. By the standards of Vancouver or Montreal, the docks were tiny, but so were the ships. And there were no trucks or cranes or containers here, just carts and wagons and beasts of burden—oxen, donkeys, and humans. Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar must have seen something very similar.
“Kneel for His Highness, the most excellent Prince…”
And kneel the people did as the barge floated on into the city, following a wide avenue shaded by date palms and decorated with statuary and fine buildings. The queen’s subjects kissed the pavement to honor her regent and the other Naos accompanying him. Saidak kept up her bullhorn roar.
Away from the docks, the crowds contained many starfolk in their usual moon-cloth wraps, which seemed entirely appropriate here, for ancient Egyptians were rarely depicted wearing anything else. Starfolk did not kneel as the mudlings did, but they bowed low as the royal craft swept overhead.
“… regent-heir of the realm comes to hold court…” The mermaid’s voice was holding up remarkably well. If anything, it seemed to be growing louder, and it was certainly echoing off the stonework below.
“Hold court?” Rigel said. “Does the regent himself judge my case?”
Fomalhaut looked down at him with puzzled contempt. “Who else?”
So the hayseed halfling had been wrong all along. Not that sort of court, idiot! The other sort of court! “I am honored.”
“So you should be.”
Honored, but probably doomed, for could there be any doubt as to the court’s judgment? Rigel paid little heed while Fomalhaut pointed out fine buildings in Egyptian, Hellenistic, and Roman styles. He did notice widespread slummy hovels in the background and was reluctantly impressed by an enormous Egyptian-style edifice that towered over everything and must be the royal palace, their destination.
Gradually dropping lower, Saidak floated between two high obelisks flanking the main gate, above massive seated statues of pharaonic style, and along an avenue as wide as any street in the city outside. Now decorative statues of gods and elves were everywhere, and in many cases it was hard to tell which were which. Everything was slabbed or angular, without any arches or curves, and many of the surfaces were inlaid with colored script.
The regent and the others emerged on deck, all except for the Vildiar SS, who stayed out of sight as if they were considered unfit for decent company. The two pages went below.
Gentle as gossamer, Saidak set down in a long reflecting pool flanked by high stone arcades. A large crowd of starfolk had already assembled to greet the regent, and more were hurrying in, many of them wearing jeweled bib-type collars to advertise their importance. Rigel saw his first sphinxes strutting past. A line of musicians armed with silver trumpets exploded into a fanfare as the gangplank was unfolded.
“Stay here until you are summoned,” Fomalhaut ordered, and strode off to join the royal party.
“Nice to slip into town unnoticed,” Mira remarked.
The spectators knelt as Kornephoros paraded down to the courtyard. He bade them rise. There were speeches and much bowing. Rigel found the rigmarole absurd and quickly lost interest.
“You’re the Egyptian expert,” he said, nodding at the monumental statues that lined the courtyard. “Are those genuine Egyptian gods?” Many represented human bodies with animal heads.
Mira shrugged. “Most of them have elf ears.”
“So they do. The doggy is popular.”
“That’s Anubis, the jackal god. They probably favored him because he had the right sort of ears to start with.”
“And how about the writing on the pillars? Genuine hieroglyphics?”
“Too far off to tell. I’d suspect it’s Starlands script, what you called Rongo-rongo. It would be hard to re-create hieroglyphics accurately if you didn’t have a camera to document them.
“I wonder what Tarf and Tegmine are up to?”
“Scoffing the rest of the food, maybe.”
“I think our tour guides have arrived,” Rigel said.
Two sphinxes had just come padding up the gangplank and were stalking across the deck toward them. The front one was male, and looked very much like the great carving at Giza that was featured in every book on Egypt. His human head was larger than a human’s—probably about as big as the mermaid’s—and although his body was on the small side for a lion, he had to outweigh any cop Rigel had ever met on Earth. While his pelt was tawny, his human hair was black and hung to his shoulders, and a tubular pharaonic beard dangled from the point of his chin, ending in a forward curl. His ears were elfin, their edges studded with jewels. His name was Rasalas, and he looked seriously dangerous.
Chertan, the female following him, was almost as large and entirely similar except for the beard and genitalia. Both sphinxes fixed Rigel with huge yellow eyes and studied him in silence—a cop trick on any world, apparently. Rigel resisted the urge to say that he didn’t have his ID with him.
“Rigel Halfling.” The male sphinx’s voice rumbled about an octave below human bass. Pause. “You are summoned to court.” Pause. “Proceed down the plank, holding your hands behind you so that I can see all your fingers. I will direct you as we go.”
Saiph-bearer or not, Rigel was not inclined to argue with those paws. “Certainly, officer.”
As he started to move, he heard Chertan ask his companion to confirm that she was Mira Earthling. Purebred humans did not project their names.
Although many of the walls and pillars around them stood taller than a four-story building on Earth, most of the palace was only one story high and much of it was unroofed, as if rulers of the Starlands kept their weather under tight control. The complex was also enormous. Rigel thought he must have walked close to two kilometers with his hands at his back and the sphinx padding behind him, silent except when growling out directions: “Left… Right… Up the steps… Down…
“Stop here.”
They had finally reached the throne room, and now it seemed appropriate that all the starfolk called it a court. It was about the size of a football field, and open to the blue sky and blinding sun. The walls were slabs of stone at least ten meters high, divided by gaps like enormous doorways, through which could be seen nothing except more stonework. The giant statues lining the sides of the court were no doubt intended to make people feel small, and they did their job well. The only furniture was a grandiose throne at the far end, which stood atop a flight of giant stairs extending the full width of the courtyard. The throne itself was neither Egyptian nor Greek, nor anything Rigel had ever seen in any book or TV show. It was encrusted with jewels and gold stars and bizarre sculptures. Sphinxes and collared starfolk wandered in and out, seemingly at random.
He turned his head just enough to register that both Rasalas and Chertan were present behind him, lying in classic sphinx posture, head erect, front paws outstretched.
“Where’s Mira, my earthling?”
Pause. “She is elsewhere,” Rasalas rumbled.
Obviously. “May I sit down?”
“No.” Pause. “The court will convene shortly.”
“May I scratch my neck? It itches.”
“No.”
“I need to pee,” Rigel said. That ought to get some action.
“I don’t advise it,” the female sphinx said. “The penalty for contempt of court is seventeen lashes.”
“Minimum,” Rasalas explain
ed helpfully.
Chapter 20
First came a strutting line of starfolk in sparkling collars playing a long and stunningly beautiful fanfare on silver trumpets, glorious arabesques of sound rolling across the great court. Behind them the three Naos rode in on magically suspended thrones of jade and silver, followed by a glittering parade of courtiers and officials. Kornephoros floated up the long stairs almost to the great throne itself, turned, and set his lesser throne down one step below it. Vildiar peeled off to sit on the sidelines at the regent’s right and one step below him, and Talitha went to his left, one step lower yet. This was not a panel of judges, though. In this sort of court, the ruler alone would decide.
Groups of starborn standing around seemed to be mere spectators or courtiers or perhaps even tourists. There had to be several hundred of them in all, and a few dozen sphinxes too, but the court was so vast that it seemed almost empty. The officials at the front were too far away for Rigel to distinguish their names or the details of their collars of office. Clearly the court was now ready to consider its agenda, and he should feel flattered that his case merited the attention of the ruler himself. He didn’t.
“Starborn Fomalhaut may approach the throne!” proclaimed an elf at the front, and magical acoustics carried her words clearly to everyone present. Or maybe the space was not as big as it appeared to be? Perhaps magic was what made it seem so huge and overpowering. Probably not, though, because Fomalhaut took quite a long time to reach the front. The proceedings would be much smoother if they adjourned to a smaller court, but grandeur must be more highly valued than efficiency. The mage eventually arrived at some designated spot, where he knelt, touched his face to the floor, and was given royal permission to rise to his feet again. It was all a big pageant, but then again courts anywhere relied on pomp to command respect.
The official ordered him to state his business.
“Your Highness, while seancing two days ago, I witnessed a disturbance among the terrestrial denizens, the cause of which appeared to be a halfling male. He and an earthling female were being mobbed, and he was defending both of them with the aid of what was obviously a Starlands amulet. It was doing the fighting for him, and he had already slain three male mudfolk. As he was violating so many of our ancient laws, I extroverted and arrested him, together with his companion, whom I brought along as a material witness. I now bring him into your royal presence for assessment and judgment.” He bowed.