by Неизвестный
" Your libidinal instincts are much too esoteric for me to ever understand, friend Lan Martak. We spiders keep our basic lust on a high, pure plane."
" And then your mate eats you."
" Every culture has its drawbacks," Krek said primly.
" Come on. Let' s find Luister len- Larrotti and his magical Fine Rooms."
As they walked, Lan noticed more and more mechanicals in the streets. They performed most of the menial chores and many of the more demanding ones. He' d never discovered where they were constructed nor how they were powered. Trying to detect any magical power source had failed completely. Lan wished he had the time to properly study the leather- bound grimoire he carried and learn more about such things. He was positive he lacked the skill to detect the spell powering them rather than some other form of motivating energy being used.
" They clank," came Krek' s terse comment as a pair of mechanicals swept the street clean of debris following one of the more boisterous election speeches involving much confetti, cheering, and illusions performing incredibly erotic activities.
" They also don' t need food, can work around the clock without tiring, and seem much more intelligent than the majority of the citizens likely to vote for Lord," said Lan.
" That is not difficult. These humans are so image- befuddled they no longer separate fact and fantasy. Living daily with their fondest dreams robs them of their spirit."
" I agree," said Lan. " I wonder if the mechanicals can vote in the election."
" If so, they ought to vote for one of their own kind. None of the humans I have seen is worthy of leading a slop- bucket brigade, much less running a city."
" Lord of the Twistings encompasses more than Dicca. The post rules most of the planet, from the way they talk. And not a one has mentioned the war going on."
" Friend Lan Martak, look!" the spider cried. Such a burst of emotion from Krek stopped Lan in his tracks. For a moment he wondered what the arachnid had seen.
Then he saw, too.
" Inyx!" he shouted.
Furry legs smothered him, twisted about him, held him back. He fought. Krek tightened his grip until Lan realized he' d never be able to fight free. Even his berserk rage didn' t give him enough strength to match Krek' s.
" Let me go. I won' t do anything stupid."
" You tried," accused the spider. " They outnumber us by a considerable margin."
Lan struggled to his feet, getting free of the coppery fur on his friend' s legs. He half- hid behind Krek and peered around. His hand went involuntarily to the death tube swinging at his belt. Reaction still brought out his sword when the combat promised to be close, but he had slowly retrained himself to think of the tube when the enemy appeared more than a few yards distant.
" In the window," said the spider.
Lan Martak went white. For a moment, the blood rushed from his head and he felt light- headed. Then anger caused blood to rush back. He flushed and only a great control of will prevented him from making a suicidal attack.
" Luister len- Larrotti," he said, the name coming out as a curse. " He used Inyx!"
" So it seems," said the spider. " No wonder the attraction was so potent for those along Lossal. Inyx is a comely female- for a human. However, please remember, friend Lan Martak, you were quite willing to gawk at someone else."
" They won' t get away with this," muttered Lan, under his breath.
The grey- clads snapped to attention when a tall man escorted Inyx out, Lan eyed the man, burning his every feature into memory. His stomach sank as he began itemizing: the man was good- looking. He carried himself with an air that spoke of decisiveness, and Lan knew that the soldier was nobody' s fool. Those cold eyes missed little as they scanned the crowd arrayed around len- Larrotti' s Fine Rooms.
" He did not see us," said Krek. " They travel further south on Lossal."
" We' re following them," said Lan. " I' ve lost Inyx in the whiteness between worlds. I lost her for almost two weeks on this damned planet. I' m not going to lose her now!"
They trailed along, only a half- block separating grey- clad soldiers from Krek and Lan. Lan fingered his swinging death cylinder, considering, calculating, evaluating his chances. The time wasn' t yet right to rescue Inyx.
Dammit!
CHAPTER TEN
Inyx screamed in abject agony. Every nerve in her body exploded in a pyrotechnic display of pain. She writhed about, kicking, moaning, sobbing. When she thought there wouldn' t be any way to survive another instant of the excruciating pain, it mounted and a fresh wave of torture wracked her. She didn' t know how long she was lost in that wasteland of pain. A second. A day. Her guess was eternity.
When the woman began to recover, she found that her limbs hadn' t been broken into a million pieces, that her intestines hadn' t been pulled out and strung around the room, that she was completely intact. Inyx sat and checked herself carefully. Not even a scratch.
" Ho, good lady," came the now- familiar mocking, shrill voice of the Lord of the Twistings. " Wasn' t that just about the most delightful experience?"
" What happened?" she asked. Her body had been freed of pain; her brain remained clouded with the memory.
" You found the way out of my favorite maze. Oh, it was exciting. Seldom have I experienced such enthusiasm for a subject. You are the first to discover the secret of that maze."
" I am, eh?" She fought to control the mad rush of her pulse, the hammer of blood in her temples.
" It' s not finished. Yes, that' s my little secret. I haven' t had time to construct more than one level of the maze. Getting up and out of that plane allows you to leave."
" The pain," she mumbled.
" A small indication of the barrier spell, nothing more."
Nothing more? Inyx rolled to hands and knees and paused there for a moment, regaining her composure. It proved difficult in this animallike position. Her tattered clothing fell off her, leaving her more naked than clothed.
" You are also the first to figure out so quickly how I compact so much into the tiny space available. Why, the former Lord of the Twistings still hasn' t figured it out, and he' s a sorcerer!"
The Lord giggled and started turning handsprings. On the last one, his hand slipped on the marble floor, sending him crashing into an ornately carved oak table. He picked himself up, laughing boisterously. To all outward appearances, the Lord of the Twistings was a buffoon, a complete and total fool. Inyx knew better. However he acted, a shrewd and capable mind backed his actions.
She had no doubt that the Lord was completely insane. That didn' t prevent him from being brilliant. If anything, it made him even more dangerous.
" Come, look at my other mazes. See this one. I' m just now building it."
Inyx cautiously followed. The Lord ignored her hesitation and raced forward, cavorting and pointing out the more gruesome particulars of his already- built mazes.
" This is a special favorite," he boasted. " Only one percent of all those put in ever live. And they aren' t worth much after a few days. It gets so tiring trying to find those who can survive my intricately constructed mazes."
Inyx felt her stomach churn at the sight of tiny people struggling along inside the maze. They had teamed up to fend off the maze creatures the Lord of the Twistings sent after them.
" This was the first maze in which I exclusively used the nervedeadening trap. I' ve since learned to direct it toward particular parts of the body. Like so."
The lead figure in the maze, hardly more than six inches tall, suddenly vented forth a shriek of miniature anguish and clutched at its thigh. Inyx couldn' t tell if the victim was male or female. It didn' t matter. What counted was the Lord' s outrageous sadism.
" The people of Dicca elected you to do this to them?" Inyx asked. " Why don' t they take you out, strip the flesh from your living body, and let the crows peck away at you?"
" That' s interesting, but uninspired," he said in an offhand manner. " How about flaying off the ski
n, dipping in salt and acid, then letting the crows loose? Or perhaps cut worms. Yes, that' s much more interesting. Cut worms."
" If any of the others is elected, would they change all this?" she asked, motioning to the playroom.
" Oh, certainly they would, certainly they would. Take Jonrod the Flash, for instance. He' d never play with miniature mazes. He' d do away with all these in a flash- and reserve a place in the Twistings for his enemies."
Inyx felt sick to her stomach.
" Then there' s that silly slut Clarita Zannermast. She' d ruin everything I' ve worked so hard to build here." The Lord started to pout at the thought of anyone else being elected. " The ignorant slut. Why, she' s told me- confidentially, of course- that she' d make all this public. Imagine sharing these fine excursions into the human condition with the masses. Really! She' d share this, make it all open to the gawking, unappreciative electorate."
" A fine group runs for Lord," said Inyx in a low, cold voice that might have been nerve- deadened by one of the maze traps.
" The finest. Absolutely the finest Dicca has to offer. That' s why I must be especially tactful this year to retain my position. Why, any one of them might unthrone me."
" That will not happen, Lord," came Alberto Silvain' s smooth voice. Inyx glanced at him. His dark face still shone with perspiration, and a pinched quality about his lips told of the strain he was under. Otherwise, he was his urbane self.
" No, no, it won' t, will it, my good sir? Not with your Claybore aiding me. Not with all those fine grey- clad soldiers rushing about, making certain my opponents don' t get too many votes. That just wouldn' t do, now would it? And who knows, Claybore might even get what he wants. Wouldn' t that be nice?"
" Claybore has only your well- being in mind," said Silvain.
" He' s lying," blurted Inyx. " They want what you have."
" Of course they do," said the Lord, laughing so hard he approached the brink of total hysteria. " And they won' t get it away from me. Not now, not ever."
Inyx studied Silvain. Determination slowly replaced fear. The Lord of the Twistings had better watch his step around this man. Nobody had such perfect control that one like Alberto Silvain couldn' t bring the entire house tumbling down.
" Come, oh yes, come, my good friends. It is about time for the noonday election speech. This one is special, ever so special. You' ll both just simply love it to death."
Silvain gripped Inyx just above the elbow with a strength not easily broken. He took no chances with her this time. She went along as docile as a lamb. She needed to regain her strength.
Then she' d strike out again.
" This studio is unique to the Lord," said Silvain in a low voice. " It is his greatest weapon in the fight to get reelected."
Inyx stared in wonder at the mechanicals bustling about the large room. The apparatus they dutifully tended meant nothing to her. One mechanical, the one in charge of the others, pointed. A large hanging on the far wall shimmered and became transparent- or so Inyx thought at first.
" It' s a window!" she exclaimed. " On the city. I can see people moving. But:"
" It' s not merely a window. The ' other side' of that device is miles away, near the center of Dicca. The Lord watches the crowd, waits for the proper moment."
Inyx stared in fascination. Silvain spoke the truth. This wasn' t a window in any sense she knew. The people were too large to be distant, yet she had the feeling this picture came from far away. The mechanicals quietly discussed it among themselves, then the scene shifted with dizzying speed. A man harangued a crowd, whipping them into a frenzy with his rhetoric and his illusions.
A hush fell.
" They' ve seen the screen begin to glow," said Silvain. " Above the platform. They know that when it turns white, that means the Lord of the Twistings speaks."
Inyx saw the Lord strut in. He had changed from his fool' s costume to one more befitting royalty. Vivid purple velvet had been lined with delicate furs of white and gold. A blazing silver emblem woven into the fabric over his chest proclaimed his rank, as if it weren' t obvious from his haughty bearing.
He clapped his hands and sent mechanicals scurrying like robotic mice. They turned and bowed when all was in order.
The screen Inyx watched carried a replication of the Lord fifty times larger than life. She guessed the impact on the crowd. Such magics were more potent than any mere illusion.
" People of Dicca, people of the world. The election is soon upon us." He paused for dramatic effect. Inyx found herself breathing faster, caught up in the rhythm of the way he spoke. This man was no fool. He controlled the crowd as easily as he did the miniaturized victims trapped in his diabolical death mazes.
" Many running for this exalted office promise much. They will deliver little. They speak of you in abstract terms. Remember what I have given you. Remember it well!"
Cascades of coin fell from the sky- faery gold. Inyx reached for a piece and it dissolved at her fingertips. She looked at the screen; the crowd enjoyed this teasing approach. They had forgotten totally about the other man on the platform under the screen.
" Illusions. They are not enough. Illusions and reality. These I offer freely. And what is reality? Reality is peace of mind. Reality is a safe feeling, knowing that we are safe in our homes, on our streets, in our most private places.
" Crime has risen." He paused to let the words sink in. " I am not unaware of this sad development in my beloved Dicca. As part of my campaign, I not only offer you coins," and again they fell from the skies, " I also offer the most startling reality. I offer an end to the criminal element. None dares the Lord of the Twistings' wrath: if the penalty is banishment."
" Banishment!" came the cry from the assembled throng. " Give them to the Twistings!"
" Yes," thundered the Lord' s amplified voice. His fifty- timeslifesize image leaned forward, a stern look crossing his patrician face. " The Twistings!"
The crowd went berserk. They crowed and cheered, they slapped one another on the backs, they rioted. Inyx hardly believed that one wordTwistings- inspired such joy.
" Why are they cheering him?" she asked Silvain. The man' s face had clouded over with anger. He held back only through duty.
" He' s toying with me," said Silvain in an ugly tone. " I shall not tolerate this! I shall never-"
His words were drowned out as the Lord of the Twistings continued his televised harangue.
" I have such a criminal with me. Her master has chosen to die rather than be banished."
" Banishment!" shrieked the crowd.
The Lord smirked, then gestured. Mechanicals pushed Alberto Silvain aside and gripped Inyx by the arms. They propelled her to a point five feet behind and to one side of the Lord.
" She lewdly displayed herself in a Fine Room. That is acceptable. But she had the temerity to also do it in public view. She caused a public scandal. The current Lord of the Twistings shows no mercy to those who flaunt the law, What should be her punishment?"
" Banishment!" the crowd responded, on cue.
" To the Twistings," he said, with an imperious wave of his delicate white hand.
" What' s going on?" demanded Inyx. " What kind of a trial is this? I was forced to do those things. Luister len- Larrotti made me!"
" To the Twistings, to the Twistings!" chanted the crowd.
Inyx failed to read the expression on the Lord' s face. It was a curious mixture of loss- of a plaything?- and revenge and triumph. She remembered what Silvain had said. The Lord toyed with the soldiers' leader. She provided a convenient pawn in this power struggle, nothing more. She' d given the Lord a few minutes of sick pleasure while trapped in his diabolical maze, but this transcended personal enjoyment. He now struck out at Claybore and Silvain, used her as a tool in his reelection, and doomed her.
The Twistings.
Whatever that meant, it boded ill for her.
" Shut off the sound," came a low command. The mechanicals obeyed. From where he stoo
d, the Lord told her, " Enjoy your vacation. You were most diverting."
" Where?" she asked.
" Stop this, Lord," demanded Silvain.
" Stop it, Alberto? Stop it? Hardly. Unless you want to join her, you' ll be quiet. But then you do want to join her, don' t you? Shall it be now? Is that your plan, Alberto?"
" The Lord knows that justice is his." Silvain bowed and backed away. Inyx hated Claybore' s commandant as much as she could any human being, but she had the feeling of loss. In some fashion she didn' t comprehend, she' d just lost a powerful ally in her battle to stay alive.
The mechanicals dragged her away.
Down halls, past closed doors, descending stairs, she quickly lost track of direction. She was being taken to the lowest levels of the palace, of that Inyx was sure. They moved so fast that Inyx knew she' d have been lost even with a detailed map of the route. The mechanicals said nothing, but even in their metallic visages she detected a sadness- and a fright.
" If you see him, tell him we still think of him," whispered one to her left.
" Quiet," barked another. " He listens in."
" Knoton," said the first mechanical. " Tell him we still remember him."
" What are you doing?" the dark- haired woman demanded. They stopped, opened a door, and pushed her through. She stood, staring. A long corridor ended in another door, a huge vault door. In the center of the shining barrier smiled a likeness of the Lord of the Twistings, retouched to make him appear much more handsome than he was.
" Forward," commanded one of the mechanicals. A well- placed hand in the middle of her back sent Inyx stumbling. The heavy vault door swung ponderously, hinges silent and well oiled. A sharp sulfur tang came from the other side, the odors of hell.
" I won' t-" she began. The mechanical shoved her again. Off balance, Inyx staggered through the portal. For a moment, she wondered if this were only some insane method of imprisoning her. The room in which she stood was barren, devoid of all furniture, decoration, or even texture. The vault door closed with an ominous click.