by Duncan, Dave
“You mean me?”
“Of course I do. Your former lover wants you to take that delinquent brat of hers to Segin right away. I hear her new consort is going to geld you, just to be on the safe side.”
“Go away.” Rigel turned his back on it.
“What does geld mean?” Izar asked.
“Tell you later. Avior, let’s talk again in a few days. Tyl and Thabit here will look after you, if that’s all right?”
The twins exchanged glances and one of them muttered, “Woof! That’s a tough assignment, Marshal.”
“I’m sure I will be in good hands,” Avior said calmly.
“I’m certain you will be,” Rigel agreed. Four of them.
Segin was the island of the merfolk, yet another royal subdomain. Any portal in Canopus would take them there. When they arrived, they stepped through onto an acre or so of sand as white and soft as talcum powder, baking-hot on the feet. Segin was an example of the elves’ imitation of human calendar art, in this case a cliché tropical evening. The sun had just set, leaving one side of the sky smoky red, while the other was deep indigo, speckled with a few early stars. Curving palm trees waved their fronds in a wind much too warm by elfin standards, while waters of an incredibly azure lagoon lapped at the beach. The royal barge Saidak floated at anchor there, but without her figurehead. Ocean surf boomed endlessly on a reef a few hundred yards out.
Yelling in agony at the heat, Izar danced down to the water and plunged in. Rigel bounded after him, always ready for a swim, although he was elf enough to find the Segin lagoon too warm. The floor was an ever-shifting mosaic of rippling light and darting, multicolored fish.
Izar headed for the reef, arms flailing. Long before he reached it, Saidak surfaced in front of him with a great bellow of welcome.
A moment after that her husband, Sertan, appeared alongside her. Like hers, his human part was at least double life size, and his fish half was as long again. Sertan had probably been inspired by some image of Neptune, because he sported a huge golden beard and curling locks that floated around his head even when they were wet. All he lacked was a crown and a trident. A shoal of merkids popped up around him, ranging from adolescents to the fishy equivalent of toddlers, all welcoming Izar with shouts of glee.
Rigel stopped to tread water and exchange greetings.
“Is the queen here?” he asked.
“Indeed she is!” Saidak boomed, oversized eyes flashing. “And Elgomaisa with her. I swear he is the ugliest elf I know. He has black hair! I’d say he had some mudling blood in him, if that were possible. He’s to have visiting privileges from now on. If this means she’s jilting you, tweenling, then she’s even stupider than I thought she was.” Saidak was nothing if not forthright.
“No, I have never been more than her loyal servant, so she’s not jilting me. I swear that that’s the truth, so please don’t hint otherwise! Naos Kurhah?”
“We’re to admit him when he arrives,” Sertan said, cutting off some no-doubt toxic comment from his wife. “I think he visited here in my grandfather’s time. Or perhaps great-grandfather’s. And Her Majesty is coming! It will be a pleasure and an honor to have Segin acting as the sovereign’s principal residence again.”
Rigel had not been warned about that. Talitha had a hundred palaces at her disposal, and he and Izar would live wherever she did. Personally Rigel disliked Segin but professionally he found the news not unwelcome. In its way, Segin was as secure as Castle Escher, but Rigel would have to think about how it might be made even more so. Izar would miss Turais, but, being practically amphibious, he’d be happy enough. He had already been towed away by laughing merkids.
Rigel was growing tired of treading water. “Then if you will kindly take me to Her Majesty, I will find out what she wants of me.”
“I know what she needs of you!” Saidak always had to have the last word.
Clasping Rigel’s arm in a hand that easily closed all the way around it, Sertan towed him out to the reef.
“Ready?” he said, which was Rigel’s cue to suck in a chestful of air. Down they went, to be swept by a returning wave through a tunnel, out into the ocean. The outside wall of the reef was a giant sponge of multicolored coral, weeds, anemones, and rainbows of fish. By himself, Rigel would have been helpless to resist the surging to-and-fro pressure of the waves overhead, but his guide held him firmly, pulling him down, down, down, into cooler, darker water. Pale blue became bluer and greener and finally almost black, but the merman knew where he was going, and before Rigel drowned—although not very long before—he was swept into the great hall of Segin Palace and released.
For a moment he stood there on the white-sand floor, gulping in what felt like air. It behaved like air, in that he could shake the water out of his ears and walk and talk. But it was water to Sertan, who floated beside him like a giant shark with an elfin grin. And it was water to the shoals of bright-colored fish that swept around, to the gently waving weeds, and to the many mermaid and merman servants. Once in a while a bubble would waver upward to the roof. Yet Rigel knew that when he stepped through the one-way exit portal to dry land anywhere else in the royal domain, no flood would accompany him.
The great hall was a cathedral-sized cavern of coral, illuminated by pale blue-green light that filtered down from openings far overhead. Even the floor was slightly rippled, so there were no flat surfaces or right angles anywhere. Its walls bore stairs and balconies for the use of landlubbers, and corridors led off to scores of rooms. Rigel had never explored a fraction of it, but he would have to become familiar with all of it, and quickly, if he was still in charge of royal security. Yet he could not imagine how Hadar’s assassins would ever penetrate this palace’s outer defenses. How did you bribe or intimidate merfolk?
A swirl of red fish shot past him. A starfish was exploring his toes.
“Anything else you need right now, Marshal?” Sertan inquired with a hint of a smile behind his great beard.
“Not right now, thank you, except…what happens if strangers come through the portal to the island?”
“If they’re not on the approved list we leave them there to die of thirst.”
There was no fresh water on the island. The portal up there was one-way; guests could come in but not out.
“But they might live long enough to ambush whoever arrives next?”
Evidently that had not occurred to the big fellow; Sertan was not much smarter than his wife. He frowned. “What should we do? Send for the kraken?”
“If I’m here, perhaps you could just come and tell me? I’ll bring Halflings Tyl and Thabit to live here, too. They’re my deputies. Um, yes?”
A young merman named Porrima was hovering nearby—literally, for his tail fins did not quite reach the floor—and staring at Rigel with very worried green eyes, almost level with his own. So, a half-grown merman.
“Rigel Tweenling, Starborn Elgomaisa gave orders that you were to be taken to him as soon as you arrived.”
“Then lead the way. Sertan, my thanks. We must share a flagon of wine sometime soon.”
He followed Porrima into the depths of the palace. Their route had more turns and twists than a moray eel, more stairs than a lighthouse. Doors in Segin were round, like portholes, and a label above each opening displayed the owner’s name in the starfolk’s ornate, many-colored syllabic script, which Rigel now read at about a second-grade level. The door he was led to stood open and the unmistakable twanging of a zither was drifting from it. Porrima floated in.
“The halfling, starborn.”
The music stopped. “Good. Carry on with what you were doing earlier.”
Rigel entered and found himself in a garden, walled around by multicolored coral, lit by the blue-green sea surface far above, and populated with starfish, lobsters, sea anemones, darting shoals of fish, and all the tourist-delighting denizens of a reef. He was also face-to-snout with a shark, a great white larger than he was.
“That is Halfling Rigel,” Elgomais
a said. “He is permitted.”
The glassy dead eye surveyed Rigel for a moment, then the monster whipped around and soared upward. Rigel swallowed his heart back down to where it belonged and bowed, elfin style, to the starborn, who was sitting in a chair fashioned from a huge clamshell. He did not appear to be armed with a gelding knife, which was a relief.
“May the stars shine on you forever, Starborn Elgomaisa.”
“Halfling.” The formal response to an inferior’s greeting was, “May your progeny outnumber the stars,” but that would be absurd when said to a mule. “The queen will be taking up residence today, and these are the royal quarters. You may inspect the areas that concern you.”
Rigel thanked him politely and did so. Other than the exit, four doors were inset in the walls, all circular and made of heavy timbers. He picked out the names on each, symbol by symbol: Izar, Elgomaisa, Talitha, Guard.
Izar’s door stood open, and inside Porrima and a young mermaid were coaxing starfish off the walls and putting them into a net bag. The room itself was spacious and well furnished. Light, and possibly air, entered by a dozen or so very narrow shafts. Even Izar wouldn’t be able to escape through those.
“Are those stars a problem?” Rigel asked.
The merman shrugged. “They have been known to crawl on people’s faces while they sleep. Starborn Elgomaisa told me to remove them in case they frighten Starling Izar.”
Rigel said, “Ha! The starfish would get the worst of it.”
He went out and crossed over to his own space, the guard’s room. It was tiny, with one very small bed taking up most of the space. The decoration on the walls comprised four very large octopuses working their way through a symphony of colors and patterns. Wondering who had chosen these quarters, he followed the sound of the zither back to the courtyard and was left to stand and wait until Elgomaisa completed the piece. Porrima and his companion finished cleansing Izar’s room of starfish and came out to do the same in the central garden.
When, at last, the music ended, Rigel said, “Are there any other exits, starborn?”
“The other two rooms have access to the sea, but the precincts are well patrolled.”
“I should prefer my room to be closer to the starling’s.”
The un-elfin black eyes studied him for a moment. “Life is full of disappointments, tweenling.”
The upstart was being put in his place. The two merfolk were listening.
“As you say, starborn.” Rigel bowed and went off to explore the rest of the palace.
Chapter 16
After an hour or two, Rigel had amply confirmed that he did not care for Segin. It was too confusing, and was simultaneously enormous and claustrophobic. It contained many beautiful halls and gardens, but the windows looked out on water and nothing else. In Canopus he had friends among the centaurs and sphinxes, but here there were only merfolk, who had the conversational skills of goldfish, and the few starborn he met ignored him. Every now and again a gigantic shark would come hurtling along a corridor at him, swooping up and over his head before he could even duck, with just a puff of pseudo-air to mark its passage.
He had been the queen’s confidant and platonic sweetheart. Until last night they had shared that secret and been friends. Then he had dared to look at another woman, and the romance had ended. Clearly Consort Elgomaisa was going to be making the decisions from now on, and his views of the pursuit of happiness nowhere included Rigel Halfling.
That became even more evident at the dinner the queen gave for Naos Kurhah. Or perhaps it was a welcome for her new consort, who certainly sat very close to her throughout the evening. Kurhah was not the only guest, although he obviously considered himself the guest of honor. Apparently his rudeness in the court had been forgiven, or he had apologized for it, although that seemed out of character. Eight of the starborn officers of the government were there in their glittering collars, including Court Mage Fomalhaut and the new Chancellor Celaeno. Prince Vildiar was not.
Five halfling officials were also present, people who actually worked and were roughly the equivalent of earthly bureaucrats. They, like Rigel, had to stand along one wall and watch while the elves ate and drank and twittered as elves did in company. Imps should be seen and not heard, so Izar was seated at a separate table for starlings. Normally on such occasions he would have a few friends keeping him company, but that evening he was alone, and glumly spent most of the time levitating cutlery.
Mermaids served the food and wine. Merfolk and merkids entertained the diners with music and three-dimensional ballet. The evening was a social success.
Rigel grew steadily more disgusted, and his thoughts kept returning to Fomalhaut’s standing offer to return him to Earth. The mage would be only too happy to oblige him. He would provide a bag of gold and perhaps even ensorcel him with a fake navel and nipples, so he could take his shirt off without being revealed as a freak. Even he wouldn’t be able to supply Rigel with a birth certificate, though, so he would still be a nobody, a nonperson, unable to obtain a passport or a driver’s license.
The only problem was that he would go mad.
The worst moment came near the end, after the servants had left. Talitha raised her glass to indicate a toast and everyone fell silent.
“Naos Kurhah,” she said, “we are overjoyed to know that you have not left us after all. It is no secret that Prince Vildiar has more ambition than honor, and we had begun to fear that his killers were starting to slaughter officers of our government. Your return to the Starlands is a great relief to all of us.”
Was she going to offer the Naos the throne after all?
Evidently not. “We shall sleep better knowing that you stand between him and the succession…”
Kurhah’s expression of modest pride soured to wary surprise.
“But one thing bothers us,” the queen continued sweetly. “What was the real reason you invaded Starborn Fomalhaut’s laboratory yesterday to tamper with Rigel Halfling’s reversion staff?”
Rigel noted that he was no longer Marshal Rigel. Fomalhaut was listening intently.
Kurhah leaned back in his chair. “My memories go back a long time, my dear.”
“Who?”
“Your Majesty. And I know lore that goes back even further. Any halfling wearing a Lesath amulet is an abomination. When that Lesath is the notorious Saiph, then the consequences are always dire. Always! Saiph is the most ancestral of all, a potential disaster even when it’s worn by a starborn. I could tell you scores of tales about the deaths it has caused. I saw a chance to remove it from play, and took it. That was all.”
His friend Shaula had been surprised to find a halfling with an amulet potent enough to read her intentions, so Kurhah was undoubtedly lying.
The queen considered his answer for longer than one would have expected. Now was the moment when she could mention that her son had twice been kidnapped and rescued by Rigel and Saiph. She might also recall that they had saved her own life from an attempted murder.
“I see,” she said eventually. “But the sphinxes and centaurs do approve of him…Well, your real motive is slightly less treasonous than the excuse you gave in court, even if your methods remain censurable. Do we have your word that you will refrain from further aggression against our son’s bodyguard?”
Kurhah hesitated, and Rigel expected a wrangle about the difference between a bodyguard and a cabinet post, but it did not come. “If that is Your Majesty’s command, then of course I shall obey.”
Talitha turned to Fomalhaut. “Court Mage, are you prepared to forgive Naos Kurhah’s excess of zeal?”
The elf’s golden eyes flicked briefly in Rigel’s direction. “Absolutely, Your Majesty. Were I not sworn to obey your orders, I should have disposed of the half-breed myself long ago.”
“Then, friends, let us welcome Naos Kurhah back and drink to his continued long life among us.”
Imp Izar said, “Oh, schmoor!” loudly enough to be heard by everyone.
&nbs
p; Rigel conducted the chastened starling to his chamber. Izar was frothing mad at the way his hero had been treated, and Rigel himself had trouble justifying it. It was, he assured the imp, no business of his whom his mother chose to be her consort, and Starborn Elgomaisa was a much more appropriate choice—fortunately Izar did not ask him to explain why. And since the nasty rumors about Rigel being her secret lover were unfounded, she must not seem to take his side in any discussion of him.
“Well, it’s not fair,” Izar protested.
“Life isn’t fair, lad.” Fortunately the starborn worshipped no omnipotent gods, so Rigel did not have to explain why life wasn’t fair.
Izar was still far too angry to want to sleep, despite his elfin ability to turn himself off at will. Rigel suggested chess and asked the mermaid on guard duty in the garden area to fetch a board. Izar had recently taken to chess like a merkid to water and was becoming very successful at it, helped by a tendency for pieces to move themselves when his opponent wasn’t paying enough attention.
After he had won three games, one of them almost honestly, he let Rigel persuade him to call it a day. Throwing himself flat on the bed, he went as limp as seaweed on a beach. Rigel headed across to his own tiny kennel. The octopuses were still exploring the spectrum in plaids and the starfish had returned, probably through the window. Wearily, he took off his helmet and tossed it onto the blanket.
There was a door in the corner that he had not seen before. From what he understood of the geometry of his suite, it ought to open to the sea, or just possibly Elgomaisa’s bedroom, but he doubted that it would.
Earlier in the day, while exploring the palace, he had activated Meissa so that he could investigate some magical trickeries. He put the helmet back on and again spoke its name. The door disappeared. It was magic, but the magic worked backwards—the door was only visible when it sensed that he was there. The intention must be that only he could see it.