'And so all that stuff was really her idea?'
'Yes.'
'Oh. Well, it was nice meeting you anyway. Um, would you just sign my shell for me, please? To Jonathan.'
'Sure.' Regalian groped in his pocket, found a pen and stooped down. As soon as he'd finished signing his name, the scorpion stung him.
'Thanks a lot,' it said. 'Well, must rush. Bye.' Regalian tried to wave at the small, scuttling form as it disappeared among the dunes; however, since he was lying on his face, paralysed from the neck down, he couldn't quite manage it.
He died.
It wasn't nearly so bad this time; because when he woke up he wasn't in the desert any more. He was sitting on a horse, wearing a buckskin shirt and cowboy boots, riding across a green landscape at a pleasant ambling pace.
'Hi,' said a voice at his side.
'Don't tell me,' he said, without looking down. 'You're a Smith and Wesson Scholfield model, and you used to belong to ...
'Don't insult me, please,' replied the voice; and Regalian noticed that it was female, quite soft and pleasant. 'I'm a Colt. A proper cowboy gun, none of your gimmicky rubbish. My name's Cindy.'
'That's an unusual name for a gun, isn't it?'
'I'm only for show. Come on, it is a musical. And by the way, why aren't you singing?'
'Should I be?'
'Yes. Oh, what a beautiful mornin'. Forgotten it already? I'll hum it for you.'
Regalian nearly fell off his horse. 'Oklahoma!' he exclaimed.
'No,' said the gun, 'that comes later, right now it's Oh, what a beautiful mornin'.' It paused. 'Hang about,' it said. 'You're not the usual guy, are you?'
Regalian grinned. Well, why not? A hero is a hero, after all.
'Depends,' he said.
My Hero Tom Holt. Page 29