Talons of Scorpio

by Alan Burt Akers

  I did not hit him, for that would have solved nothing. I looked at him sorrowfully. I cocked my head at the beam and dragged him across. Holding him with my left fist I used the thraxter in my right to slash the girl’s bonds. She fell into the arms of her three companions who, unchained, were ready to help in this impossible and undreamed of situation. They were girls of spirit, then, and not broken slave grakvushis.

  The girls were all trembling, as was natural, yet with that quick summation of their characters I surmised they had not been slave long. One was a Sybli, one a Sylvie and the other apim. They were all pretty, and I sighed.

  Constanchoin went upside down with some ease and I looked at the girls.

  “Two of you tie his ankles to the beam.”

  The Sybli with her childish face just smiled and went on bathing the girl who had been beaten. The Sylvie and the apim girl leaped up, eagerly sorted out fresh bonds, and fastened Constanchoin upside down. I half bent to stare into his engorged face.

  “You know what is going to happen, grand chamberlain. But, of course, you won’t let it happen. You’ll tell me where the kovneva is.”

  He was hysterical now, shattered by shock and fright.

  But he still chittered out: “I do not know! A great crowd of Twayne Gullik’s Iftkin came and took the kovneva away. I was not told—”

  I frowned.

  This had the ring of truth. That Twayne Gullik... Maybe Pompino was right and the Ift was an out and out rogue.

  The Sylvie picked up the bloodstained switch.

  With the feeling a man gets when he realizes the bottom of his ship has been ripped out on a coral reef I saw that the situation had now overtaken me. What I had begun in so febrile a manner would be continued and probably finished by others with their own interests to slake. I bent again to Constanchoin the Rod.

  “If you know, tell me. These girls will not be easy on you.”

  “I do not know!”

  “Well, where would Gullik most likely take her?”

  “His kin have a castle at Igbolo, deep in the forest—”

  The Sylvie whistled the switch around with a hiss and the grand chamberlain yelped although not touched. His blue robes hung around his head, but I felt sure the girls would remove the rest of his clothes before they started.

  “Igbolo,” I said. “That is not much help.” Igbolo was like saying Greentree. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  “I can take you there — I think.” He spoke with a rush, seeing a way out of his predicament. I wasn’t at all sure I could stop these poor girls once they’d started.

  “What do you mean, you think?”

  “The way is guarded by traps. It is lost in the forest. I have never been there—” He regretted saying that instantly. He tried to cover. “But I have been told.”

  By this time I felt reasonably confident that he didn’t know where the kovneva was. She might be at Gullik’s Iftkin’s castle of Igbolo. But she might not be. Gullik would know for sure that the search would be prosecuted there.

  “Anywhere else?”

  “No! I don’t know — save me, save me, Horter Jak!”

  I did not smile.

  “If you insist on tying up girls and having them beaten painfully with a switch, you surely cannot complain if girls tie you up and reciprocate? Is there not justice in that?”

  “As you love Pandrite, save me!”

  “Horter,” said the Sylvie. “I do not know who you are; but I am growing tired of waiting.”

  “We take turns,” said the apim girl.

  “Of course, Natalini, we take turns. Only I go first.”

  “You always do get first go at the men, Sharmin.”

  “And this time it will be different, by Shiusas the Insatiable, vastly different.”

  As all Kregans know, if anyone is cognizant of insatiability, it has to be the Sylvies, of whom most men are strangely ignorant — or, perhaps not strangely, seeing that they wish to remain on speaking terms with their own womenfolk. Or, so it is said.

  Constanchoin fell into an incoherent mumble, interlarded with prayers and pleadings. The broken-beaked Rapa slumbered. The two guards lay in their own blood. The Och had vanished. There seemed to me nothing left here for me, except a difficult decision. Why did I have to become embroiled? I’d told this damned grand chamberlain that, hoisted with his own petard as he was, he could expect no other punishment than that which he had meted out. But was this a civilized action? It was not, certainly in many areas of Kregen. Just as I had decided — and, I might add, with some reluctance — to halt the girls in their revengeful beating after each had had a whack or two, the whole problem was terminated in an unsurprising and typical way.

  The black-hung chamber echoed to the clash of iron-soled sandals on the iron floor and a mob of guards burst in.

  Since I stood in front of the upside-down grand chamberlain hanging from the beam, all the newcomers would see of him would be his ankles bound up. They took as little interest in those as they did in the wounded and unconscious Rapas. Most of the guards were Fristles. They looked at the Sylvie.

  I said in a hard voice: “Have you seen the kovneva, Framco the Tranzer?”

  The cadade hauled up and looked at me. He recognized me.

  “The kovneva? No, of course not. We had report of a disturbance, of a wild man — what’s going on, Horter Jak?”

  “Why, only that that rogue of a Twayne Gullik has kidnapped the kovneva. As for the business here, your grand chamberlain was about to taste his own switch. But I think that may not be necessary now.”

  The Fristle cadade peered around. He saw what had been going on. I readied myself for a bout of handstrokes; but what I’d said worried him far more than the plight of the grand chamberlain. It was not difficult to guess that Constanchoin had given Framco a hard time in the past.

  “Gullik’s kidnapped the kovneva! You are sure? It is a most serious allegation.” Framco did not pull his whiskers. He looked competent, on a sudden, in his mail. “Forgon — cut down the grand chamberlain. Catch him before he falls.” To the Och, who ran in grimacing and ducking his head: “You, Nathamcar, see these girls back to their quarters.” To an ob-Deldar whose whiskers were dyed blue: “Anfer, take two men and guard them. I’ll question them, if ever I get around to it... Now, Horter Jak, perhaps you’d best tell me all about it from the beginning.”

  “Gladly, if I knew what the hell was going on.”

  Constanchoin, cut down, was carried past, moaning.

  Framco said: “You’ll have to answer as to what has happened to the grand chamberlain. Although if he’s in the plot I’ll be the first to string him up again.”

  At the time I found nothing unusual in the cadade’s immediate acceptance of my story. That there was strong animosity between him and Twayne Gullik was obvious, and that antipathy extended to the grand chamberlain. Also, Framco the Tranzer was no hired paktun. He came from Pando’s estates, and would be expected in the normal way to be loyal, given fair dealings. That he had been chosen to be the captain of the guard indicated something of his mettle.

  The girls walked past, the antennae of the fanpi drooping as she was carried by two men.

  The Sylvie, bold, stopped by me and looked up.

  “You deprived me of my revenge, horter.”

  I said: “You will be thankful, one day, that you did not take your revenge. When I see the kovneva I will buy you and your friends—”

  She showed her teeth.

  “I would not willingly be slave to you—”

  “I do not keep slaves. I will manumit you all. That is a promise.”

  Her face changed color.

  “What is the name of the fanpi who was beaten?”

  “Tinli, horter.”

  “I shall remember the four of you, and see you are freed, for you can face nothing but pain here now. Tinli, Suli, Natalini — and Sharmin. I shall remember.”

  “If you do, horter, then Shiusas the Insatiable will sur
ely reward you.”

  Framco said: “We have to find the kovneva first.”

  “Aye. But where has Gullik taken her? And,” I said, for I was still unsure, “It could be he has merely taken her to another place of refuge...”

  “That is a possibility, of course. But I know that rogue Gullik.”

  “Suppose he mistrusted us?”

  “Had you wished to kill the kovneva, I am sure you would have done so long ago, and run no further risks in bringing her into the Zhantil Palace. By Odifor! I may be wrong in this, but my whiskers tell me I am right!”

  The smiling Sybli girl with her childish face turned as she passed. They are simple folk, the Syblians, but not as simple as they look.

  “The mistress wanted to take me to the estate at Plaxing, if that helps, horter. She told me so last night.”

  I looked at her, said thank you and she smiled, her babyish face rosy and now free from worry, for she, like any truly sensible person, might look into the future but refused to worry over it, unlike most of us.

  “Tilda spoke to her last night, when she was supposed to be unwell.” I could hear the edge in my voice. “There has been a plot at work here.”

  “Yes,” said Framco, agreeing. “But I do not think Gullik would take the kovneva to her estate at Plaxing.”

  “You agree there is a plot. Tell me what you think has been going on.” For my money the cadade knew nothing, and Twayne Gullik had, following his name, gulled him. “You’d better send some of your men to make inquiries. A party of Iftkin with a chair or a coach may have attracted attention.”

  The carriage Pompino and I had seen leaving might belong to the plot. When I mentioned it, Framco sent to make inquiries. Then we went off to find Pompino.

  On the way through the corridors with scared slaves keeping out of the way, Framco told me that if there was a plot, as he now believed, he knew nothing of it. He’d always mistrusted the Ift from the day Pando took him on as castellan. No doubt Pando had his motives in the appointment; I could not guess what they were. Some of Pando’s estates consisted of entire stretches of forest. Maybe that was the answer.

  We found Pompino and the rest of the people from Tuscurs Maiden fuming.

  “Kept me waiting like some cur dog!” Pompino started off. “No formality, no courtesy—”

  He quieted down when I cut in to explain what had happened. Then he broke out afresh.

  “We’ll scour every street, every tavern, every hole and corner! Someone, somewhere, will know where the kovneva has been taken.”

  “That,” I said, “will take time.”

  “If only Mindi the Mad were here,” said Framco. I noticed that he’d started pulling his whiskers again. “She has the power. I am confident she would be able to spy out the kovneva’s whereabouts.”

  “A witch?” demanded Pompino.

  “A good witch, a female wizard, a sorceress, a seer, yes.”

  “You trust her?”

  “Oh,” said Framco the Tranzer, “no.”

  Towards the hour of mid when we thought of taking a little light refreshment, one of Framco’s men reported back that a party of Ifts with three wagons had been observed leaving the Inward Gate, which led out into the hinterland.

  “After them!” he cried. “Mount up, all. We’ll overtake them and demand a reckoning, by Odifor!”

  A bunch of hersanys were brought from the stables and saddled up. Big ugly brutes, hersanys, with coats of thick chalk-white hair, and their six legs are as ungainly as any totrix’s. But they have stamina, and do well in the bruising jolt of a cavalry charge. Framco’s guards mounted up, and Pompino called down to me from his saddle.

  “Mount up, Jak! This is nip and tuck.”

  “Listen, Pompino.” I walked across and put my hand on his bridle. “Do you go on after the Ifts. You may find the Lady Tilda with them—”

  He looked alarmed.

  “You think not?”

  “I don’t know, by Pandrite! But I do not think it wise to expend all our energy in one direction.”

  He nodded. “Then I’ll follow this clue. If you root out anything, send a messenger — these locals will know the direction we’ve taken.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Maybe I should stay with you and let Framco go—”

  “That is your decision. But I want to poke about myself. I want to use my nose.”

  “A damned great beakhead it is, to be sure. Very well. I’ll give this chase a day, then I’ll be back.”

  “Agreed.”

  They clattered off, like a hunt after leems, and I went back into the palace, free to go about my own nefarious activities.

  Chapter ten

  Of the power of the Lemmites

  Looked at dispassionately, the perfectly logical deduction from what had happened was that Twayne Gullik, a conscientious castellan, concerned for the safety of his mistress and much distrusting us rough new arrivals, had taken her off to a place of greater sanctuary. This was perfectly possible. His attempt to get us out of the palace had failed. But — we knew that the kovneva had left the palace before Gullik spoke to us. Copper-bottoming his bet? Maybe.

  One way or the other, we had covered the options. If Tilda was safe with Gullik, no harm would have been done. If she was being abducted — and one could hardly say against her will because she was probably in a state of happy befuddlement — Pompino and the crew from Tuscurs Maiden and Framco and his guards would take the necessary measures to secure her from the rascally Ift. If he was a rascal.

  Framco had left a handful of men under an ord-Deldar to hold the palace. They’d be occupied if anything untoward happened. My judgment was that some of the peril we had anticipated, directed as it was against persons and not property, might have been exaggerated. It might not have been. If a howling mob broke in to loot the palace the guards would see them off; if assassins sneaked in they’d find no quarry, their kitchews all flown, and if any of the other folk who wanted Tilda dead attacked they’d have dust and ashes to show for their pains.

  So, feeling discontented but aware that in that direction nothing further remained to be done, I set about the next task.

  If I burned a temple before Pompino got back to join in he’d feel cheated of his amusement. But, I could see about finding the locations of the temples. As I did this I’d make inquiries after the Ifts and the kovneva.

  A change of costume being desirable I went along to see the grand chamberlain.

  He was still in a distressed state, lying shivering in his bed in his apartments. A couple of flunkeys wanted to cut up; but I looked at them, and went across the carpets to look down on Constanchoin.

  He glared up, feverishly, black rings under his eyes.

  “I refuse to feel sorry for you,” I told him. “If you order girls to be beaten then you must expect to be beaten yourself. As it was, you came off lightly.”

  He moaned. This was all shock, indignity, fright; he hadn’t been physically harmed.

  “I need a change of clothes. I came to see if you were all right and to tell you that I am plundering the kov’s wardrobe. He will be pleased to let me have whatever clothes I wish to take, believe me. As for you; when you are recovered you will take great care of the people, both men and women, in your charge. Otherwise — well, in the Blue Distance of Pandrite, anything may happen. Dernun?”

  That rather fierce way of demanding understanding jolted him. He managed a feeble nod. A slave girl wiped spittle from his lips. I looked at her, a Fristle girl with silvery fur and a tail adorned with a blue and green bow.

  “If he hits you, fifi, tell me. He will not hit you again.”

  With that foolish statement echoing in my ears I went off. As you will observe, I was a trifle warm about the domestic arrangements young Pando kept up in his palace.

  In the lavishly furnished apartments given over to the kov’s personal use I found he did himself proud in the wardrobe department. His tunics wouldn’t stretch to fit my shoulders, of
course; but I needed a Pandahem hat, and a loose cape-like upper garment known in Pandahem as a puttah. I chose one with a blue ground and not too much black and silver embroidery, for they are foppish in these things. With this slung over my shoulders, the wide hat pulled down, and a fresh pair of gray trousers, I was perfectly decently dressed.

  The Fristle ord-Deldar, who reported himself in as Naghan the Pellendur, offered me a hersany. I told him I’d prefer to walk, thanked him, and sauntered out of the gate. I felt a tickle of amusement as the two guards in their little sentry boxes slapped up their spears in salute. I touched the brim of the hat to them, shoved the puttah over my left shoulder in the style of a pelisse, and took myself off to explore Pando’s Port Marsilus.

  His hat, I should mention, was of a fine pearl-gray color, most elegant, with a black velvet band. In that band a jaunty tuft of green feathers gave, I now admit, life to the combination. With a gesture I admit, I admit! was entirely petty, I ripped the green feathers out and scattered them on the roadway. Of such things are a fellow’s life made. Meaningless gestures, irrational loyalties, a childish approach to the serious things of life...

  The way to handle children... Well, I knew that, didn’t I? Of course I did — or thought I did like any fond parent. But children do not grow up in the same mold as their parents. I couldn’t honestly say that a single one of my children took after me — except in a twisted sense that Dayra would like to take after me with her Whip and her Claw. Although she hadn’t struck that final blow...

  So, thinking dark and unpleasant thoughts, all occasioned by a bunch of green feathers, I tried to brisk up my steps. The first port of call would be a tavern, by Krun!

  At the sign of the Hersany and Queng I downed a tankard of ale and devoured two cheese sandwiches with a great deal of pickle, and all the time I sized up the clientele — middling tradesmen, a fellow who was clearly an artist from the paint on his fingers and the well-worn portfolio leaning against his chair leg, a farmer into the big city over important affairs and dressed up in a hideous mélange of color and style, a mercenary — a little out of his milieu — who was tazll and being unemployed had a lean and hungry look. To this last customer I insinuated myself with the usual tricks of introduction, and bought him a tankard, and so sat down easily at his side.