want me to come into your hidey-hole, I suggest you come out
and face me."
He looked to Rheela with an air of resignation and spread his hands, palms up, in a manner that seemed to say, What else can I do ?
Unable to believe that she was doing it even as she did it, Rheela started pushing on Calhoun's shoulder as he rose from be-hind the desk. "Get going. Out the back."
He laughed. It wasn't in a derisive way. He seemed amused, even a bit charmed by the urgency in her tone. "Out the back?"
"Yes. Hurry. I'll stall him."
"Unless you're planning to run into the middle of the street and do a striptease, I somehow doubt that you're going to capture his attention for very long."
"Do a what?" she asked in confusion.
He seemed about to explain, but then thought better of it. 'Trust me," he said gently, putting his hands on her shoulders and mov-ing her to one side. "This is just something that I'm going to have to take care of."
"And if you die?"
"Then I die."
"But I couldn't stand it if you did! I-!"
She felt ashamed, humiliated that there, in front of her son, the emotions that she'd kept in check for so long were hemorrhaging
from her. And yet, for all the shame and mortification she felt over leaving herself so exposed, it was also the best that she had felt in years.
Calhoun put a finger gently to her lips and said softly, "Later. After,"
"There may not be an after!"
"There always is," Calhoun told her. "It's just not always where we think it's going to be."
"Calhoun!" bellowed the challenging voice once more. Rheela's heart was thudding wildly. It was clear from the sound of that-that whatever-it-was-that it was not going to be patient for much longer. Not that it had displayed much in the way of pa-tience thus far.
"That is not the sound of a happy person," Calhoun understated. "Let's go out and see if I can rearrange that frown into a smile "
He sounded almost chipper about it. So much at ease that the en-tire thing had taken on an air of unreality. She simply couldn't be-lieve that he was smilingly about to go out there and die. "Mac-" she said with growing urgency, and she knew-beyond question, right then-that if there was any way she could just knock him out, sling him over her shoulder, and make a break for it, she would do it.
With quiet confidence, he said, "Not now. Later. Later would be better."
Without another word, he squared his shoulders and walked to the door and out.
Moke immediately went to the door to watch. "Moke, come away from there!" she ordered, but he stayed right where he was. After a moment, rather than make an issue of it, she joined him, watching fearfully.
She couldn't believe the creature that was waiting for him. He looked like a monster-tall and green, powerfully built, with arms the size of thick cacti. The expression on his face was a fearsome thing, one that she was sure she would take with her to her grave. He was watching Calhoun like a predator eyeing its prey. The creature-Krut was its name, she believed he had said-simply
stood there, its hands hovering in a leisurely manner near the butts of the twin weapons it had strapped to either hip.
Calhoun was walking with measured stride, but he wasn't ap-proaching the creature directly. Instead, he seemed to be drift-ing to one side, moving directly across the creature's path. Krut was standing there, watching him with keen interest. Mock-ingly, he started to move in the same manner as Calhoun, with that same stride that seemed so casual in Calhoun and so con-temptuous in Krut. In fact, he exaggerated Calhoun's move-ments, swaying back and forth, thrusting out one hip and then the other. If any of the mocking aspects of his attitude were bothering Calhoun, one couldn't discern it from the Majister's calm demeanor.
And now Rheela was starting to see her fellow townspeople more clearly. They were daring to peer out windows and not look away, or position themselves just inside their doors, so they could have a clear view but not be in any danger themselves. Their cow-ardice was so appalling to Rheela that she could practically taste bile rising in her mouth.
"Keep moving, Calhoun. That's right," sneered Krut. "Keep right on moving. That's what you do best, isn't it? Kill someone, then disappear. No place to run this time, Calhoun, no matter how much you dance about."
Calhoun continued to move, undeterred by anything that Krut was saying to him. Krut kept on circling, moving this way and that, his hands still at the ready to respond to any sudden move-ment Calhoun might make toward his weapons. Calhoun wasn't looking at Knit's guns, however, nor his hands, but instead di-rectly and unwaveringly into Knit's eyes. There was absolutely no fear in Calhoun's face. None. It seemed unlikely that he was ready to die, nor was he resigned to it. But it was quite clear that he was not the least bit afraid of it.
"You can stop this, you know."
The voice had been soft and almost directly in her ear, the words audible only to her. She jumped slightly and looked to her
left. Tapinza was standing there. There was a craftiness in his eyes
that she found most unappetizing.
"Oh, can I, Maester?" she replied, making no attempt to hide her skepticism.
He barely glanced toward the drama that was unfolding in the street. Instead, he nodded ever so slightly. "You can end this... by asking me to end this."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
He shrugged noncommittally. "Creatures such as this Krut are fairly predictable. He doesn't care for honor so much as he does wealth. I am a wealthy man, Rheela. If I offer Krut some of that wealth in exchange for sparing the Majister's life, I have no doubt whatsoever that he will be more than happy to walk away from this potential disaster."
She couldn't quite believe it It couldn't possibly be that sim-ple. "You would do that?" she asked.
"For you? Of course." But then he paused and added, "Of course, naturally... if I am expending money, I expect a return on that expenditure. It would be poor business otherwise. You..." He let the word hang there a moment, clearly relishing it "You... would serve as a very sound return. On my investment, that is."
They were speaking so softly that Moke hadn't even realized at first that they were conversing. But he noticed now, and looked from one to the other quizzically, trying to understand what was going on.
Rheela comprehended, though, all too well. The only thing that was amazing to her was that it took her as long as it did to see where he was going with it. "You want me to be in business with you. To charge the people of Yakaba for my weather abilities."
"Once upon a time, yes. But the stakes have risen to the level of life and death," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the face-off in the street. "Now, my dear Rheela, I want more than that. I want you yourself. In my life. In my bed. I will have you to wife, my dear Rheela, and all that you have will be mine. That is the price of saving your precious Calhoun."
"You bastard!" she whispered hoarsely. "How could you put me in such a position?"
Moke's head was snapping back and forth so quickly that it looked as if his head was going to fall off. "Ma... ?" he said, his tone low in automatic imitation of the adults. "Ma, what's he say-ing? What's wrong? What's-"
Then Rheela's eyes widened. It was as if blinders had been re-moved from her eyes, and she could only be angry with herself that she had taken so long to figure out that which was so obvious. "You brought him here! The huge green monster! You brought him to our world! You set this up! Set up all of it! All to maneuver me into this position!"
Moke understood that all too well. He looked from Tapinza to Knit and back again. There was a look of stricken betrayal on his face. "You brought him here?" he demanded to know, his childish voice rising in agitation.
"How Krut got here isn't really relevant," Tapinza said easily. "What matters is what's going to happen to Calhoun... oh, just about any time now. And what matters is whether you, Rheela, are going to do anything about it before it's too late."
<
br /> Not discerning the nature of Tapinza's terms, Moke said ur-gently, "Do it, Ma! Save Mac! If you can, you gotta!"
Never had Rheela felt more helpless. She was completely boxed in. And every fiber of her being screamed at her to reject the "offer" flat. To make it clear to this... this vomitous excuse for a living being that she would have none of it. That Rheela was not going to knuckle under to pressure, no matter what the odds, simply to save the life of one man who had gotten himself into this situation and refused even to try and find some way out of it.
All that went through her head in an instant, and she opened her mouth to say all that to Tapinza, and a hell of a lot more besides. But at the last instant, just before she spoke, she saw Calhoun still moving warily, still facing off against a behemoth who was very likely going to cut him down any second. And in that instant,
every single thing she was going to say to Tapinza disappeared, to be replaced by a simple, "All right"
Tapinza looked as if he could scarce believe it. "Did... you say... ?"
"I said all right," she told him angrily. "You win. Happy? Satis-fied? But none of it will happen unless you put an end to this, be-fore he puts an end to Calhoun."
With a lopsided and confident grin, Tapinza called in a loud voice, "Excuse me! Sir! My name is Tapinza, and I am a Maester of this city. I was hoping to speak to you for a moment..."
"Later," Krut said, never taking his eyes from Calhoun. "I have someone to kill."
Since she knew beyond doubt now that Tapinza had arranged this entire thing, Rheela's lips twisted in contempt as she listened to the exchange between Tapinza and Krut. It was so obviously staged, so clearly a "prewritten" conversation that they were now acting out-badly-f or the benefit of the townspeople.
Continuing to play his part, Tapinza said, in a manner suggest-ing utter confidence, "That may not be necessary, sir. I believe we can come to an arrangement that will spare the life of our-"
Krut fixed a deadly gaze on him. "I said, 'later.' "
Rheela felt a small bit of alarm at Hie base of her skull. Some-tiling about the way Tapinza was looking seemed to indicate to her that that wasn't the reply he'd been anticipating. "You don't understand, sir. I have-"
"I don't care what you have," Krut said. "This man is going to die, and there's nothing in all this world that you can say or do that will stop that."
"But... we had-" The Maester almost literally bit his tongue. Rheela, of course, knew roughly what he'd been about to say. They'd had a deal? A bargain? An understanding? Any or all of those. Whatever it was they'd had, however, it was clear that it meant nothing to Krut.
"He... is going... to die," Krut said very slowly, almost pa-tronizingly, as if reciting the realities of the situation for the bene-
fit of an infant. "Here. Now. At my hand. I don't like his actions, or his moving about, or his attitude, or his fancy scar, or purple eyes. I don't like him, and I'm going to kill him."
Tapinza wasn't able to say anything. It wasn't as if he couldn't think of anything to say, but he was stammering so fiercely that he couldn't get the words out.
Calhoun abruptly said, "If my moving about bothers you... very well. I'll stand right here." Sure enough, Calhoun planted himself stock-still. Krut naturally stopped exactly where he was to face him.
"Tired of running? Wear yourself out?"
"Something like that," said Calhoun, still not showing the slight-est fear. In the brightness of the noonday sun, she could see the small good luck charm glinting in his hand. Whatever properties the charm might have, she doubted that it was going to save him from this.
"I'll tell you what, Calhoun. I will be fair to you... which is more than you've been for others," said Krut. "I will give you... the chance to draw first."
"Krut!" called Tapinza, still trying to insert himself into the proceedings, apparently not fully grasping that matters had moved beyond his control. "This isn't necessary-!"
"Oh, yes it is," Krut told him flatly, "and unless you shut up right now, killing you is going to become just as necessary as killing him."
Tapinza choked, as if his entire throat had constricted. His hands moved in helpless little circles.
Rheela wanted to shout out to Calhoun, to beg him, to tell him once and for all how she felt about him... something, anything. But she was afraid to, for she was worried that to do so would be to distract him at a crucial moment. And so she kept her silence. Moke, however, started to move, and she saw it at just the last in-stant. She grabbed him by the arm, yanked him back, and clamped a hand over his mouth to stop him from shouting Calhoun's name and drawing his focus away from where it had to be at this critical moment.
"So, Calhoun!" Krut said, as if there was no one else in the street. It seemed to her that Calhoun was separated from her by a
gulf hundreds of feet wide, even though he was standing mere yards away in the street. "Do you wish to take me up on my offer of trying to draw first? Or are you going to simply stand there like the coward you are and make no effort at all to defend yourself?"
"Are you sure about this?" Calhoun inquired, his voice steady. "You're willing to let me have my turn first?"
"Absolutely," said Krut. "You may have the opportunity to go for your weapon. And I assure you that before it's even cleared your holster, I will draw mine and shoot you down. But it will not be a killing shot, Calhoun, oh, no. Not a quick kill, that is. I'm going to shoot you in the stomach, Calhoun. Have you ever seen a man die of a stomach wound?"
As if speaking from a land of utter darkness, Calhoun replied, "I've seen men die in just about every way that you can imagine."
"Good. Then you know the fate that awaits you. At least, you think you do. But as you're lying there in the street, clutching at the blood spreading across your belly, trying to reinsert the in-nards that are leaking out... perhaps I will walk over to you and have mercy on you." He grinned in anticipation of the moment. "Will you beg me at that point, Calhoun? Will you beg me to end your misery? Will you pray to me or curse me, I wonder. And what will I do, what will I do? You know... I'm not quite certain I know myself. I might indeed spare you continued misery by ending your worthless life right then and there. Or I may stand there and watch you suffer. Could be a long, drawn-out process, though. Could take you a couple of days to die. I'm not entirely sure whether I'm really willing to stand there for all that time just for the pleasure of watching the light flicker from your eyes. Then again... perhaps it might just be worth it. For to see you suffer from the continued agonies of-"
He was still talking when the explosion erupted under his feet.
It was deafening. Windows shattered up and down the street, people crying out and clapping their hands over their ears. The air was charged with the aroma of something burning, and there was a wave of heat so powerful that Rheela felt as if it was going to
burn her eyeballs right out of their sockets. And then... came the sounds. The sounds of large, green body parts descending from where they had been propelled, high into the sky. An arm plopped into a water trough. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Rheela groaned. The trough was one of just a small number of water storage locations around the city, and now it was contami-nated. What a hideous waste.
A boot thudded to the ground, wisps of smoke still trailing from the end. And then the majority of Knit landed. Head, torso, an arm, his thighs. Where the rest of him was, it was impossible to say. What was not impossible to determine, however, was that Knit was unquestionably not in a position to cause any more problems.
Calhoun walked with measured stride to Knit's still-smolder-ing corpse, or at least what was left of it. He stared down at him blandly. "Your turn," said Calhoun.
It was Moke who broke the stunned silence that followed, and there was nothing but pure joy in his voice. 'That was spectacu-lar!" he shouted. "What did you do?"
"Moke!" said Rheela, trying to sound scolding, but, truthfully, the relief flooding over her was so overwhelming that she could bare
ly get the word out.
In response to Moke's question, Calhoun held up the silver cylinder. "Remember that little excursion we went on, Moke? Those things we found called 'mines.' I planted them in the street hours ago as a present for him. This detonated them." He tossed the cylinder to Moke, who caught it effortlessly.
"And that's why you kept moving. To get him in position so he'd be standing on them!"
"You-" Surprisingly, it was Tapinza who had the nerve to voice a protest "You cheated! What sort of Majister cheats?"
'The smart kind," replied Calhoun easily. "Given the choice, I'll take living over dying anytime."
And suddenly, in response to absolutely nothing that Rheela could discern, Calhoun suddenly seemed to be reacting with alarm. His body appearing to move before his mind had even
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