Scorpio Assassin

by Alan Burt Akers

  Her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes widened.

  “But they’ll know it’s a fake!”

  “Eventually. I just need a little time to move, that’s all.”

  “I’ll go at once!”

  As she started for the door with a swish of her blue gown I said: “There is another matter to discuss when you get back. I will wait here.”

  “All right! All right!”

  The courage I had seen in her must be matched by integrity and intelligence. Although I could not be sure, I fancied Chandro would want me to do some dirty work for him. If that work coincided with my own plans, then quidang. And, of course, my plans were those of the Star Lords’.

  When Leone returned her color was up, her eyes were bright and her ripe pert mouth was tightly clenched. She wore the necklace.

  A small furtive movement under the table attracted my attention as I stood up.

  A reddish-brown scorpion waddled out from the table’s shadow.

  His tail curved arrogantly over his back and his legs, bent and braced, glinted. His eyes regarded me steadily. I checked, holding my breath.

  Leone released that tightly-held clamp on her mouth. She spoke in a controlled breathy voice.

  “I have been thinking, Drajak. Thinking that you are trying to trick me. But why, I cannot understand, for if you wanted to steal the necklace you would not ask for a copy. How can I possibly trust you?”

  I looked at the scorpion. Leone ignored him altogether. This, I felt sure, was not because she was wrapped up in her own thoughts and worries, but simply because to her he was invisible. He waggled that stinger at me. He was from the Star Lords, no doubt about it. They were keeping an eye on me. My original feelings of despair that I had failed them had been materially dissipated. I had not been flung contemptuously back to Earth. But — here was the scorpion of the Everoinye, watching me. Perhaps my punishment would still be meted out.

  “Well? Why do you not answer?”

  I roused myself.

  “You do not know for sure if you can trust me. I accept that. All I can do is assure you that what I have told you is true. Is that the fake?”

  “One of them.”

  “Oh?”

  She walked across to a fragile couch and threw herself down so that the rush seat squeaked.

  “Oh, Drajak! I don’t know! I want to trust you. I feel — I feel something — odd. Something about you I do not wish to know — I think.”

  “You have nothing to fear from me, Leone.”

  “Perhaps not in the way you mean. But — but I feel — I think perhaps I do!”

  The damned scorpion stood there drinking all this in. I wondered if the Star Lords — who once had been as human as Leone or me — I wondered if they still remembered how a young girl’s emotions fluttered about like a bird in a cage.

  That I felt sorry for Leone goes without saying. Still, I had a job to do that, once done, would free me to return to Delia, my Delia of the Blue Mountains, my Delia of Delphond. And why on Kregen I ever allowed myself to be parted from her for a single second longer than necessary I could not understand. Only duty, damned duty, kept me from haring off to Vallia and telling the Sisters of the Rose what I thought. Then Delia and I would fly off to be by ourselves. By Zair! I own I almost turned around and marched clear out of that palace in Makilorn and started for home.

  But, if I did, the Star Lords would send their gigantic blue phantom Scorpion to fetch me back here where I was needed to further their schemes.

  I blinked my eyes and the scorpion was gone.

  I let out a breath.

  “All right, Leone. Tell me about the necklace.”

  “The queen was most amused.”

  “Oh?”

  Her lips began to tighten up at my tone and I readied myself for a scornful blast. Then she shook her head and said: “She knew that I borrowed some of her jewelry from time to time. She did not know I borrowed this particular necklace and was at first angry and upset. Then she — it was a strange effect — she smiled and became very friendly, almost as though she was enjoying a joke.”

  “At whose expense?”

  “She showed me a cabinet. Drajak — there were nine necklaces, all the same!”

  She unhooked the necklace and handed it to me.

  “We thought the necklace was important. Well, this proves it is most important indeed.” I took it from her fingers. “Thank you, Leone.”

  “Yes.”

  “But they would not all be the same, would they.”

  “But they were, Drajak. All nine exactly the — oh! I see!”

  I turned the necklace over in my hand. The gems were linked by double strands, alternately gold, silver and dudinter which we on Earth call electrum. The gems looked splendid and although I could not give them a full test I had the ticklish feeling that they were real. The centre pendant contained within a golden trelliswork a large ronil, a purple-red jewel of great price. I felt convinced this was real and not paste; but the jewelsmiths of Kregen are fantastically capable of producing imitation gems that will fool all but the most expert scrutiny. If there were seven others like this, and the genuine article, someone had gone to a very great deal of trouble to disguise that same genuine article. Maybe it was not in the cabinet the queen had shown to Leone but was locked away separately. Perhaps there was no original at all but simply the nine matched necklaces.

  Whatever the truth, the fact that there were nine identical trinkets in existence must mean a mystery was attached.

  The door opened silently and a half-grown Sybli girl wearing a gray slave breechclout crossed to the side table where the sand glass showed the last few grains tumbling down. She stood perfectly still, her soft features expressing nothing whatsoever as she waited. As the last grain slipped through she turned the glass with a single expert motion and set it back on the table. With the smooth young gait of Sybli girls she crossed to the door and closed it silently behind her. Leone just had not noticed the hourglass change at all. Slaves lived and moved among the lords and ladies like fish in the water, there but unseen, unnoticed.

  Well, you know my views on slavery.

  Also, it is worth mentioning that in this desert area sand glasses were commonly in use. The thought crossed my mind that the water from a clepsydra might come in handy one day. And, another point, the queen’s palace provided a glass changing service even to a small room like this. Just how many slaves went around changing the glasses? Well, the palaces of Ruathytu and Sanurkazz and those of Vondium before the destruction made this desert palace look like the lodge by the side gates. Ah, well...

  A feeling for the passage of time is buried in most people and Kregans are no exception. Without any connection with the slave girl’s turning of the sand glass, Leone looked across and saw the bur was gone. She moved to the door and half-turned her head to look at me, a most graceful movement.

  “I told you the queen was amused. After she’d got over being angry. She has commanded you to the first lunch. She wishes to inspect the man so involved with the necklace he is willing to risk his neck. We’d better go now.”

  Without answering I walked across and we went along the corridors and through the halls together. The place was splendid, all right, and I stopped comparing it with other palaces I had known. At last we reached a pleasant room furnished with tables and chairs where the first lunch was taken.

  Apart from the guards with their Lohvian longbows and yellow-fletched arrows, the only other person present with the queen turned out to be the court wizard. Well, now!

  He wore dazzling robes, a tall hat, curly yellow slippers, and his face revealed nothing of his thoughts save one. That face knew secrets, that face concealed secrets, that face gloated with the power of secrets known.

  As for the queen — she was breathtaking. I gave her a polite bow, making a leg. If she wanted me to go into the full incline, I might consider it carefully before I rejected such slavish foolery. Her face was pale. Her eyes were large a
nd clear and softly brown. Her mouth seemed to tremble with controlled passion; I decided I did not wish to find out what emotion motivated that passion. Her robes were simple, sheer laypom, and her hair neatly curled and piled and threaded with gems. There was no doubt about it: this woman had presence.

  “Majestrix,” spoke up Leone. “This is the man, Drajak the Sudden.”

  Lifting my head from the bow I said: “Llahal, majestrix.”

  She nodded, not smiling, her mouth wet and red and full. She motioned with her hand to chairs at the table. The wizard was already at the food. I seated Leone and then sat down. The queen broke a bread roll between her fingers, staring at me. I picked up my bread roll and got on with it. If she wanted to talk she’d do it in her own sweet time. In the interim, like any good Kregan, I wanted to eat this one of the six or eight square meals a day that are de rigueur on that world.

  When she did speak her voice held an attractive quality I liked. She began with general enquiries about me, which I answered with the standard set of Dray Prescot lies. These lying stories were far simpler than the truth, by Krun! Then she said: “Can you lead my guards to where you were taken by the thieves?”

  “No, majestrix. I was unconscious going and blindfolded leaving.”

  “A pity. Still, we can have the thieves taken up as you hand them the Skantiklar.”

  The wizard stopped chewing, looked me in the face, and said: “You did not hear that, tikshim.”

  Ordinarily I don’t worry over insults people hurl at me. I take notice only when it serves my purpose. Now the word tikshim, which means something like ‘my good man’, is considered normal by those of the upper class who use it and infuriatingly insulting by the lower classes to whom it is addressed. So that didn’t worry me. The attitude of this wizard was clear, frighteningly clear. Consumed with his own position and power he was in mortal fear of losing both. I took notice of the symbols spattering that dazzling gown. I’d find out about this fellow, never fear.

  “Well?” The word was positively snarled.

  “I heard,” I said, casually, and continued eating the salad.

  Leone kept her head down over her plate.

  The dark blood rushed and collided in the wizard’s face.

  “You shint! Did you not hear me tell you to forget you’d heard?”

  “That’s what I just said, I heard.”

  His lips compressed and went white, scarring that dark aquiline face.

  “I’ll—”

  And the queen laughed.

  Leone glanced up, startled. The queen sat back in her chair and laughed. She put a slender white hand to her lips. Her eyes were bright.

  “I think, San Chang-So, you must admit Wr. Drajak has the right of it.”

  He managed to get his lips unglued. His voice held an ugly note as he said: “Of course, that is what he meant. He does not seem able to express himself clearly.”

  As for me, as I went on eating the first lunch, mostly salads, I was cursing away at myself. What a fool! This man was an ugly customer all right, with prestige and power, and I’d made him an enemy on sight. If I knew men of his stamp — as I did, I did! — he’d seek to do me an injury to avenge his slighted honor.

  By Makki Grodno’s disgusting diseased liver and lights! Why couldn’t I keep my black-fanged winespout shut?

  Chapter six

  The first lunch proceeded in something of a silence after that.

  Eventually the queen tapped her lips with a square of yellow linen and said: “Palines, I think. And then, San Chang-So, you will do what must be done. Have you discovered anything further about this new wizard?”

  He said: “He comes from Whonban.” Chang-So’s voice held barely suppressed venom and envy. “From Nik-Whonban. Even so, this makes him a real Wizard of Walfarg.”

  I perked up at this. By his robes and general demeanor he hadn’t impressed me as a genuine Wizard of Loh would. Here in Loh there were as many different sorts of sorcerers as there were in any other parts of Kregen, probably more, apart, perhaps, from Balintol. The real genuine Wizards of Loh came from Walfarg. After all this time I fancied I’d have trouble trying to remember to say Wizard of Walfarg instead of Wizard of Loh. Still, by Vox, this choice specimen Chang-So would not possess the amount of kharrna and the consequent sorcerous power as your true Wizard of Walfarg.

  “Well, keep an observation upon him.”

  “I do. And he knows it. By Hlo-Hli! I feel his power!”

  The queen glanced sharply at him. Sweat sheened on his forehead.

  “You are well, San Chang-So?”

  “Perfectly, thank you.” He recovered his poise. “If this new sorcerous shint is here in Makilorn because of the necklace, then—”

  “Why, then,” exclaimed the queen brightly. “He will be on a fool’s errand!” And her light amused laugh filled the room with silver sound.

  As for me, I wondered just how well this Chang-So had sealed this room against a real genuine Wizard of Loh’s power to see and hear at a distance.

  Mind you, there were many different gradations of accomplishment among the real Wizards of Loh. I had known some in much reduced circumstances and others who could perform what were to ordinary folk genuine and frightening miracles. Power was relative to other power; well, that is a truism.

  The queen stood up and we all immediately rose. Chang-So glowered at me. “Is he to come?”

  “I think so. After all, he is taking the necklace.”

  Leone started to say: “I will retire now—”

  The queen said most pleasantly: “Stay and keep me company, Leone, dear.”

  “Yes, majestrix.”

  We all trooped out and along a corridor with only two guards at our backs. Naturally, these people didn’t know what that maniac Dray Prescot could do in circumstances such as these. Still, this game looked to be worth the candle, so I dutifully trotted along with them. We entered a small antechamber and then through draped dark blue curtains into a narrow although lofty temple.

  Pillars of black marble upheld the arching roof, dark with mystery. The walls, carved with mythological scenes from the life of the great Tan, were illuminated by lamps so that the figures seemed to be alive. The altar was modest. I saw no signs of a black iron cage, for which I was glad.

  The floor of black and yellow hexagons stretched bare to the altar rail. As we walked down with our footsteps ringing the hollow echoes, three young girls wearing flowing draperies and not much else ran out with three light cane chairs which they positioned before the altar. They fluttered off and the queen motioned to us to be seated. Chang-So walked on towards the altar. Here appeared to be a weird mixture of religion and sorcery. This temple was dedicated to Tsung-Tan well enough and yet wizardry was clearly taking place.

  A lad scuttled out of the curtained shadows on the left side carrying an enormous cope on a frame. I had to keep a straight face as between them they got the thing around Chang-So’s shoulders. It glittered with gems. It gave him a spurious air of dignity and command.

  He stood by the altar and a certain amount of mumbo-jumbo followed. This, I imagined, must be the religious aspect of the ceremony. He passed on to the thaumaturgical aspect and as he did so all the damned lamps in the place flickered. Sheer co-incidence or a parlor trick, I told myself.

  The queen said: “Take the necklace up, Leone.”

  Leone flashed me a scared look. I handed her the necklace and she walked haltingly to the rail.

  Chang-So took the necklace and hung it on a tripod so that the dependent jewel, the great ronil, swung just above the surface of the altar block.

  He stood back. He must have pressed some secret lever for the top of the block began to slide sideways. The instant the slab revealed the opening beneath, a brilliant coruscating beam of radiance flashed upwards. I blinked and water filled my eyes.

  When I could see clearly again I made out the hazy shape of the ronil bathed in the incandescent shaft of light from the pit beneath the altar. Cha
ng-So stood to the side, silently. There was a greater magic here than any words he might chant. A swift glance at Leone showed her cowering in her chair, trembling. The queen sat straight, shoulders back, chin up, a veritable dandy fighting lady.

  At length Chang-So released the lever and the slab hissed shut. The radiation died and the shadows came back, the lanterns totally unable to light the gloom. Our eyes would take some time to adjust.

  Chang-So unhooked the necklace and almost before the queen spoke Leone was up and walking forward to bring it back. She handed it to the queen.

  “Yes,” said the queen, reflectively. “It is warm and it holds power. How long will it deceive them, Chang-So?”

  “The thieves, probably for ever.”

  “And the sorcerer?”

  “It is impossible to say.”

  The queen turned the necklace in her slender fingers. Then she accepted the reply. I fancied Chang-So just didn’t know and didn’t have the power to find out. “Leone, give the necklace to Drajak the Sudden.”

  The thing positively radiated energy. It tingled in my fingers. I’d be prepared to swear the jewel was crammed full of magic, by Krun!

  “You will have a chance, Drajak.” The queen bent her brows to look on me. She half smiled. “You will be able to get away, at least.”

  “You are kind, majestrix.”

  “That is one duty laid on me as majestrix.”

  I let that go. It could be mere flannel, rote description of the queen’s position, propaganda. Still, I felt she believed it. I caught the idea that perhaps she was not a Queen of Pain of Loh. Perhaps she tried to rule wisely and well. If so, it would make a refreshing change.

  “Then you will have the thieves taken up, majestrix?”

  The words were hardly out of my mouth before the wizard snarled: “That is for the queen to decide, not you, tikshim.”

  Leone gave me a quick look and then away. I said nothing.

  “That is all.” The queen lifted a hand. “You may go.”

  I said: “Majestrix. Tell me — when Leone brought the necklace to me in the anteroom, did it not cross your mind I might walk out with it then?”